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RECOLLECTIONS OF 
BARON DE FRENILLY 




(]76e-ia-iB) 
a^le^ a. Tru/niatuyLe' iy -22 i/tcat/ . 



RECOLLECTIONS OF 

BARON DE FRENILLY 

PEER OF FRANCE 

(1768-1828) 



EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
AND NOTES 

BY ARTHUR CHUQUET 

MEMBRE DE l'iNSTITUT 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 

BY FREDERIC LEES 

OFFICIER DE l'iNSTRUCTION FUBLIQUE 



TTITH A PORTRAIT 



NEW YORK 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

1909 






Printed in Etis:land 



'Yl 



'^} 



INTRODUCTION 



FRAN901S AuGusTE DE Frenilly, the author of these Recol- 
lections, was born in Paris on November 14, 1768. He 
belonged to the class which was at the head of the money- 
market, and which, to use his own words, was in the eighteenth 
century equivalent to a State position and on a level with the 
upper magistrature and the high nobility of Paris. His father 
was Receiver-General for the appanage of the Count of Artois, 
Poitou and Angoumois. His mother, Mme. Chastelain, who 
came of a parliamentary family, had an uncle, M. de Saint- 
Waast, Avho was Administrator-General of crown-lands. 

His tutors — and notably the Abbe Brejole — ever allowed 
him great freedom. With Brejole he lived at Rheims for three 
■years — from 1785 to 1788, studying law and at the same time 
reading novels, and, during the holidays, making excursions 
into foreign comitries. His mother''s desire was that he should 
become a magistrate, and she held up before him as a model 
the brilliant Herault de Sechelles, the spoiled child of Fame, 
the idol of the women of the day, the man to whom she aspired 
as a husband for her daughter. Frenilly sustained his thesis 
and successfully passed his examinations, and it was the good- 
looking, sprightly Sechelles who received him as an advocate 
in Parliament. He, also, wished to become a magistrate, a 
councillor, a master of requests, and finally an intendant. An 
intendancy appeared to him to be the most honourable of 
posts for a man of spirit and intelligence. Was not an 
intendant the head of his province, and had not Turgot risen 

V b 



vi INTRODUCTION 

from the intendancy of Limoges to the position of Controller- 
General ? 

But Frenilly's great-uncle, M. de Saint-Waast, intended that 
he should succeed him as Administrator-General of crown- 
lands. So Frenilly, although he had a supreme disdain for 
finance, had to study domanial science. He proceeded to 
Poitiers, which he calls his capital, since, on coming of 
age, he was to take over his father's post, that of Receiver- 
General of Poitou, and he there spent — between 1788 and 
1790 — two of the happiest years of his life, dining with 
the Intendant, the Bishop, and the financiers, who, not- 
withstanding their age, bowed down before this stripling, 
gladly attending the soirees of the elegant and amiable nobility, 
paying court to the charming Amaranthe d*'Esparts, visiting 
those good, big chateaux which then made Poitou the most 
sociable province in France, and roving through the woods of 
Monts with the three Mesdemoiselles Turpin. He became the 
favoin*ite both of Poitiers and Poitou. He gave luncheons ; 
he played brelan and shuttlecock as much as people liked ; 
he had a taste for music, singing and drawing ; he was a good 
dancer ; and, after taking lessons in Paris with the celebrated 
Petit, at twelve francs each, he possessed the art of entering a 
drawing-room gracefully, of making a slight bow to the 
assembled company, and of advancing towards his hostess 
without being encumbered by lace, hat, sword or muff. 

He returned to Paris four days before the Federation of 
July 14, 1790, and saw Talleyrand celebrate the high mass, 
in the open air and amidst a pelting rain. 

He detested the Revolution at its outset, not only because 
it deprived him of his positions and patrimony, but because 
he was instinctively an aristocrat. The aristocracy was with 
him, he tells us, " an indelible element, united with the 
very marrow of his bones,"" and at the first glance he per- 
ceived what was behind the veil of that Revolution which 
looked so promising. On seeing a bust of Lafayette in his 
mother''s drawing-room his hair stood on end, and when 
Mme. de Frenilly remarked that the Revolution was a 
child which committed follies, but which would grow up to 
be a man, he replied, " Mother, it will become a monster.'" He 



I^^TRODUCTION vi 

went thrice, in company with Semonville, to the Jacobins club, 
and came away disgusted. At the news of the King's flight 
he was wild with delight. He looked upon the Legislative 
Assembly as consisting merely of low-class revolutionaries whose 
sole idea was the destruction of the throne, and styled 
June 20 a disgusting, noisy revel, organised by the Orleanists, 
who counted on " the King and the Dauphin rising to heaven, 
like Romulus, in the midst of the tumult." 

Frenilly enhsted in the Filles Saint-Thomas battalion of the 
National Guard. He took a close part in the events of 
August ] 0, and was one of the company of Chasseurs which 
escorted the royal family to the doors of the Legislative 
Assembly. 

After the September massacres, he left Paris with his mother 
and sister. For two years he lived at Loches, undisturbed, 
thanks to the influence of a Jacobin of the town. He made, 
however, a few journeys to Paris. He was in the Rue Saint- 
Honore when the cart bearing Danton and Herault de 
Sechelles to the scaffold passed, and he visited the imprisoned 
Farm ers- General. 

On hearing of the 9th of Thermidor, Frenilly was seized 
with convulsions of joy ; for if the conquerors had still need of 
*' retaining laws of iron and blood " the reaction was bound to 
come. He then went to reside at Chartres, but soon definitely 
returned to Paris, where he got himself put into requisition as 
a flower painter ! The political situation had so changed that 
in 1795 he defended the very Convention which in 1793 he 
had called a band of base cowards, governed by despicable 
scoundrels and vile prostitutes. He was one of the National 
Guard which, on the 1st of Prairial, entered the assembly room 
by one door and expelled the fatigued, disconcerted and power- 
less populace by another. He formed part of the column which 
took possession of the Faubourg Saint- Antoine. But he did 
not belong to Freron's jeunesse doree, and if he sang the 
" Reveil du peuple,"" it was in the form of a parody. Instead 
of saying to the Convention : 

Suivez le cours de votre gloire 
he said • 

Suivez le cours de la riviere. 



viii INTRODUCTION 

Nevertheless, the fragments of good society were coming 
together. From 1796 to 1800, Frenilly was, as Mme. d'Esquel- 
becq called him, la Jleur des pois. He composed light poetry 
and a vaudeville which was hissed by the public and even by 
its author ; he cut a brilliant figure at balls, suppers and in 
society plays ; he was welcomed and feted everywhere — at the 
Vindes', the Lecouteulx du Moleys"", the Merard de Saint-Justs', 
and at Mme, d'Houdetot's ; and he formed friendships with 
Pasquier, Mathieu Mole, Christian de Lamoignon, and Baron 
de Stael — the last of whom, the most handsome man in Sweden, 
married for money, he says, the ugliest woman in France. 

As it was necessary for him to settle down, he married, in 
May 1800, a young widow, Mme. de Chemilly, the sweetest, 
tenderest, and most devoted of women and mothers. She 
brought him as a do^vry the large estate of Boumeville, in the 
Department of the Oise, near Marolles, and a league from 
Ferte-Milon. From 1800 to 1830 Frenilly exploited this 
domain. Gifted, according to his own testimony, with the 
bump of order and a passion for arranging and creating, he 
succeeded, by dint of incessant care, in making his kitchen- 
garden one of the finest in France, and a celebrated scientific 
agriculturist, the Marquis de Crevecoeur, declared that M. de 
Frenilly's plantations were the best managed of any he had 
ever seen. 

Frenilly lived at Bourneville until the year 1830. But in 
1807 he spent the winter in Paris, on the first floor of a house 
in the Faubourg Saint-Honore. There his wife held a saloriy 
the frequenters of Avhich were on the most intimate terms, 
composed, as they were, of the members of allied families, such 
as the Damas, the Lamoignons, the Rosambos, the Montbretons, 
and the Mezys. 

He believed in the durability of the Empire ; the birth of 
the King of Rome appeared to him to consolidate the new 
dynasty. When anxiously counting the cannon-shots on 
March 20, 1811, the twenty-second almost knocked him down. 
A son had been born to Napoleon, and that cannon-shot had 
killed the Bourbon race. 

But was not Napoleon the scourge of Europe ? Was he not 
turning France into what Italy was under Nero and Domitian 



INTRODUCTION ix 

— a nation of conquerors abroad but of slaves at home ? 
According to Frenilly, true patriots ought to aspire to the fall 
of Napoleon. The invasion of the allied armies would certainly 
be a calamity, but it would prevent a still greater disaster. 
Their triumph would deliver the country, and it Avas the duty 
of every one who loved France to wish that, cost what it might, 
she should shake off the yoke of this Corsican, this " foreign 
upstart," and be handed to her legitimate sovereigns. 

Therefore he enthusiastically welcomed the return of the 
Bourbons, in whose honour he composed an epic poem in two 
cantos, entitled " Fin du poeme de la Revolution." During 
the Hundred Days, he refused to remain in France and deter- 
mined to reach Ghent by way of England. 

After the Hundred Days, he threw himself into politics. 
He began by publishing an opuscle, called " Considerations 
sur mie annee de Thistoire de France," which brought him 
the praise of Vitrolles and the favoiu' of the Comte d''Artois, 
and followed it up with a work on Representative Assemblies. 
In 1816 and 1820 he tried to get elected deputy for the Oise. 
One of the most earnest of the ultras, he boasted of conspiring 
and of belonging to the fine floAver of rebels. He joined the 
Society knoAvn as " des bonnes etudes " — later a nursery for 
magistrates and royalist administrators ; diligently corresponded 
with the directors of French missions ; and became an active 
collaborator on the Conservatenr, Avhich, on its ceasing to 
appear, he revived and continued for some time, with the aid 
of Ronald and Lammennais, under the title of the Defenseitr. 

At last, in 1821, he was elected deputy for the arrondisse- 
ment of Savenay. On the faith of his writings, he tells us, 
Bretons and inhabitants of the Vendee offered to entrust him 
with their affairs. He joined the pietistes group, consisting of 
those members of parliament — La Bourdonnaye, Delalot, and 
several others — who met in the comfortable salon of Deputy 
Piet, and, in 1824, after his re-election, he was appointed 
Reporter to the Committee of the Budget. The Comte 
d'Artois liked him exceedingly, and once a week, from the 
winter of 1821, Frenilly called at the Pavilion de Marsan to 
pay court to Monsieur. In the month of August 1824 this 
friendship led to his appointment as a Councillor of State. 



X INTRODUCTION 

In November 1827 he was created a Peer, with seventy-five 
others. It was, he says, a foolish and colossal " batch," and 
the three ordinances which Villele then issued — those creating 
Peers, dissolving the Chamber, and suppressing the censureship 
— presaged the fall of the monarchy. 

It is at this stage of his life that Frenilly brings his Memoirs 
to a close. On the outbreak of the Revolution of 1830, he 
remained faithful to the White Flag and left the country. 
Selling his beloved Bourneville, he travelled in Germany, 
Switzerland and Italy, and finally settled, first in Vienna and 
afterwards in Gratz, in the neighbourhood of the Duchesse de 
Berry and the royal family, which he continued to see until the 
end of his days. He died in Gratz on August 1, 1848. 



II 



Frenilly wrote his Recollections whilst in exile, between 1837 
and 1848 — not continuously but intermittently, at Rome, 
Bologna, Triest, Ischl, Innsbruck, and Gratz ; he composed 
them in order to kill time and because, as he puts it, he pre- 
ferred to talk nonsense rather than to veg-etate. Written in this 
way by fits and starts, these souvenirs contain a few errors and 
inexactitudes. The author was describing a period long since 
passed, and, though he may have preserved his correspondence 
since 1807, he had no annals, he tells us, within his reach. 

Moreover, he is not free from vanity ; he exaggerates the 
part he played and would have us believe that he was one of 
the chief actors at the time of the Restoration. Hardly had 
he been elected a deputy than he asked to be appointed 
Minister of Public Instruction in order " to defend the throne 
and the Church against philosophism," and his colleague and 
friend Salaberry declares, in regard to this, that he had a Jmppe 
both on his head and mind.^ 

Finally, he was a party man, and many of his judgments 
are dictated by prejudice. Let us accept his description of 
Talleyrand as an infamous wretch and of Fouche as a knave, 
1 Salaberry, Soiiveyiirs polltiq^ies, 1900, vol. i. p. 14. 



INTRODUCTION xi 

if you like ! But he regards Voltaire as a deadly man who 
merited only scorn and aversion. He execrates that " Gilles 
Cesar," Lafayette — Washington's clown, the most infatuated 
and pedantic of giddy-headed persons who brought from 
America the principles of Penn and Franklin, the silly hero 
whom France, to her shame, twice raised towards the throne. 
He condemns La Bedoyere as a criminal, Fabvier as a rogue, 
Manuel as a little monster, and Casimir-Perier as a lunatic. 
He considers Fievee to be an insolent fop whose opinion was 
to be found in any one's purse. He styles General Foy — 
who, according to Pasquier, greatly honoured the tribune of 
the Chamber by his character and eloquence — a solemn clown 
and scoundrel, with the face of an assistant barber. He has- 
only a feeling of disgust for Benjamin Constant, whose physiog- 
nomy, like his soul and his speeches, seemed to him to be 
" saturated with cruelty, impudence, hatred and envy."" In the 
Due de Richelieu he sees only a philosopher without talent — in 
Decazes a Narcissus with the shoulders of a lackey, a wretch 
who possessed but the bearing of a handsome coachman, a 
vulgar effrontery and a decisive mind. 

The Orleans family inspired him with a feeling of horror. 
Why were they allowed to sojourn in France ? he asks. Why 
were they not left in their " vipers' nest " at Twickenham ? 
Was not their return, with the dissolution of the " undiscover- 
able " Chamber and the famine, one of the three calamities 
which desolated France in 1816? And he insinuates that 
Louis Philippe did the same work as Philippe Egalite — paid 
the murderer of the Due de Berry. 

Frenilly liked neither Louis XVI. nor Louis XVIII. 

He recalls the fact that the fashionables of Versailles nick- 
named Louis XVI. " The Locksmith " or " The Big Pig," and 
reproaches him with having lacked spirit, judgment, taste and 
a sense of moderation. 

As to Louis XVIII., he was his hite noire. On seeing this 
stout, sickly and fatigued man enter Paris in 1814 — lolling in 
his calash and insensible to the people's joy — ^he experienced a 
painful impression, which soon turned to astonishment and 
sorrow. What ! — he exclaims — Louis XVIII. neither makes 
nor unmakes anything ! He neither resuscitates the provinces 



xii INTRODUCTION 

and the parliaments nor re-establishes the masterships and the 
corporations ! Four companies of musketeers is all that he 
accepts of the old regime ! What ! after the Hundred Days he 
employs Talleyrand and Fouche ! He entrusts the ministry to 
the Due de Richelieu, who has neither hatred nor love for the 
royal family — to Decazes, who becomes at one and the same 
time the child, friend and master of his king ! Frenilly never 
ceases, in the last part of his Memoirs, to deplore the liberalism 
of Louis XVIII. and to declare, in a tone of sorrow and 
anger, that the king was assisting the Jacobins to destroy 
the monarchy. He cries that he would gladly have seen 
Louis XVIII. at Pondicherry, and seriously asks if it is possible 
to love one's native country without despising such a man ! 
He reproaches him with the dissolution of the " undiscoverable " 
Chamber, that dissolution which brought about " the king's 
dishonour and the loss of his cause.*" He reproaches him with 
having sanctioned the Loi Gouvion Saint Cyr. And he re- 
proaches him with not having, after the assassination of the Due 
de Berry, dissolved the Chamber and banished the Orleans. In 
his opinion, Louis had dragged France into a fatal rut ; like 
the emigres, he had neither learnt nor forgotten anything — he 
was but " an egoist and doctrinaire."" 

Louis XVIII. was aware of Frenilly's views. He ironically 
called him M. de Frenesie,^ and spoke not a single word to 
him when on July 1, 1819, he signed the marriage contract of 
Claire de Frenilly and Camille de Pimodan. 

Similarly, Frenilly had little liking for the Due and Duchesse 
d'Angouleme. One lacked polished speech, the other polished 
manners. The Duke, with his narrow, flat head, was possessed 
by a craze for liberalism ; the Duchess, heroic and saintly 
though she might be, was unable to save the imperilled 
monarchy. She sacrificed her conscience to her wifely duties 
and knew not how to gain people's hearts. In the midst of 
the joy of the Vendee she was stiff and embarrassed ; on enter- 
ing Paris with Louis XVIII. she seemed as though imprisoned 
in her new corset, and the sorry figure which she cut recalled the 
past and foreshadowed the future. 

Frenilly's king, the king after his own heart, was Charles X. 
_ 1 Mhnoires et Souvenirs d'un pair de France, vol. iv. p. 342.- 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

He would not let France drift ! If less witty than Louis XVIII. 
he possessed lofty, noble sentiments, and his correspondence 
with the Bailiff of Crussol, which Frenilly had in his hands, 
displayed the soul and style of a Henry IV. He could recog- 
nise, moreover, Frenilly's devotion. At Claire's marriage with 
the Marquis de Piraodan he bestowed upon the baron " kind- 
ness and even praise." 

Thus does Frenilly bring political passion into his judgments. 
But this very sincerity is what makes his " Recollections " of 
value. Under the Restoration he did not hesitate to sever 
relations with those of his friends Avho no longer shared his 
opinions. He was long connected Avith Norvins, Lacretelle, 
Pasquier, Barante, and Vinde ; but as soon as they enrolled 
themselves under the banner of liberalism he ceased to see 
them. His appreciations, therefore, testify to a state of mind 
which it is necessary to know. He is, as he himself says in 
two passages, a fierce aristocrat, and after all, this rigidity and 
stubbornness of principles does him honour. Although it has 
been said that the absurd man is he who never changes, men 
who, like Frenilly, will neither depart from their ideas nor 
renounce their faith, ever inspire esteem and respect. 



Ill 



Baron de Frenilly's Souvenirs present a series of pictures of 
real interest. 

He describes Paris as it was before the Revolution : fashion- 
able Paris which thought of naught but pleasure, sentimental 
and sensible Paris, where in the corner of a drawing-room 
and surrounded by thirty people, mothers suckled their children, 
" the poor victims of Rousseau," or where young women of 
twenty declared they no longer danced because they had had 
a child. He passes in review the theatres, fairs, balls and 
fashions. He introduces us into those important financial 
families which were becoming a nobility, whilst the nobility 
transformed itself into the people, presenting to us, in addition 
to his uncle Saint- Waast, old Delahante, graceful and rather 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

given to bantering ; Delahante's nephew, tall, bony, square 
built, and, notwithstanding his hard, dry face, an excellent man ; 
liUzines, cold in manner and imposing in bearing ; and Lauzon, 
a stout jovial fellow with the commonest manners in the world. 
He takes us to the lectuies at the Lycee — to those delivered 
by Garat, a pale, heavy and verbose litterateur — to those 
of La Harpe, ruddy of cheek and forehead, and finally to 
those of Deparcieiix, the skilful physicist and lucid demon- 
strator. He knew intimately the ardent CEspremesnil and 
those youthful members of the Chamber of Inquiries — foppish 
philosophers just out of college ! — who imagined that they 
formed an Areopagus or a senate. But were not most parlia- 
mentarians filled with the conceit and turbulent pride of the 
Enquetes ? 

With the same rapid pencil, sometimes delicately, sometimes 
vigorously, he sketches the physiognomy of revolutionary Paris. 

He shows how the Revolution spread in the capital. Were 
not the Deputies fashionable ? They were received conse- 
quently with honour ; and the Revolution having thus entered 
the salons " daily contact with errors and honeyed baseness, 
often even eloquent, imperceptibly caused modifications, inocu- 
lations and grafts."" 

He relates some striking anecdotes of this epoch which 
paint human cowardice in the most vivid colours. Whilst 
travelling in the diligence to Loches, after the September 
massacres, the son of an Attorney-General of the Parliament of 
Nancy, seeing the Orleans prisoners pass, shouted at the top of 
his voice : " A la guillotine ! " " At any rate keep your mouth 
closed," protested Frenilly. " Ah ! " replied his companion, 
" I shout because Fm afraid." 

The Paris of the Terror is revivified in a few pages. Car- 
riages there are none ; the streets are silent ; the men wear 
coarse carmagnoles, which the youth of the city still find a means 
of making elegant ; there is a dearth of everything ; long files 
of famished people stand at the bakers'" and butchers"' doors ; 
friends assemble secretly to eat white bread ; and Frenilly, one 
terrible frosty day, went as far as Charenton to fetch a hand- 
cart filled with wood, which he prudently dragged across the 
fields. 



I 



INTRODUCTION xv 

He calls up several curious scenes in Parisian life under the 
Directory. People vied with each other in misfortune and 
poverty, declaring, in order to be in the fashion, that they were 
ruined, and had either been persecuted or imprisoned, regretting 
almost that they had not been guillotined, but adding that 
they might have been on the day after, or two days after the 
9 th of Thermidor. At a Irmcheon attended by these \'ictims, 
Frenilly submitted to the affront of being the only person 
present who had not been imprisoned. 

The society of the Empire is not forgotten : we see it 
amusing itself, and every year, from the last Sunday in August 
to the second Sunday in September, with plays performed at 
Le Marais. Some people are irreconcilable and refuse to enter 
into a covenant with Bonaparte, the murderer of the Due 
d'Enghien ; others go to the Tuileries and — with the exception 
of Pasquier and Mathieu Mole — slander the Master. 

Pretty and lively portraits are mingled with these descriptions. 
What a brilliant gallery is passed before us in the chapter 
devoted to the noble dames and damsels who reigned in the 
salons of Poitiers and the chateaux of Poitou ! 

Frenilly excels in describing women. They abound in his 
work. There is a portrait, for instance, of his cousin, the 
Marquise de Bon, so brisk and coquettish. Another of Mme. 
Grant, who became Princesse de Talleyrand. She loved 
Frenilly, and he speaks of her with a taste and delicacy which 
authors of memoirs do not always show. A third of Mme. 
d'Houdetot ; a fourth of Josephine, the Josephine of the Direc- 
tory ; and a fifth of Hortense de Beauharnais, who danced so 
well, wrote such pretty songs, and so cordially detested her 
royal and disagreeable husband. 

Men are portrayed in the same vivacious, witty, happy 
manner, and in a few exact and nervous strokes. 

Literary portraits are as numerous as political ones in 
Frenilly's Memoirs. His maternal grandmother was an admirer 
of fine minds and she held a salon, the oracle of which was the 
Abbe de Mably. Twice or thrice a week his mother sent him 
with his tutor Brejole to the exclusive gatherings of D'Alembert 
and Mannontel. In 1778, at the house of the Marquis de 
Villette, he saw the aged Voltaire, buried in an armchair and 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

wearing on his head a huge bearskin cap which covered him 
down to his eyes. 

Let me add that Frenilly knows how to tell a story, and 
that his narratives are full of animation. The finest account 
in his recollections is that of the events of August 10. The 
scene he describes is unforgettable : the procession silently 
descending the Escalier de THorloge, lined with old Swiss soldiers 
in tears, the king being drawn into the Assembly, his escort 
remaining at the foot of the staircase and seeing pikes rise 
before them bearing the heads of victims, the cannonade sud- 
denly bursting forth, and Louis XVI. ordering the firing to 
cease ! 

All that now remains for me to do, in concluding this too 
brief introduction, is to thank the heirs of that Baron de 
Frenilly, whose " Recollections " will, I hope, take a distin- 
guished place in the already rich collection of French Memoirs. 

Arthur Chuquet, 

Menibre de TInstitut. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTEE I 

1768-1780 
Object of these Memoirs — The author's father and mother — His maternal 
relatives — His grandmother — His great uncle, M. de Saint-Waast — His 
paternal relatives — His uncle, M. de Fauveau — Cousin Flore — Cousins 
Chazet, the Marquise de Bon and Baronne de Mackau — Carmontelle — M. 
Pascal — Lekain and Mme. de Mesnil — The private tutor Thiriot — Mme. 
de Lavoisier — The Academic de Saint-Ouen — Mme. and Mile. Necker — 
Mme. Le Senechal — The Marquis de Bi^vre — Rulhiere — The Chevalier de 
Cercey — Monticour — Chastellux — Visit to Voltaire — Louis XVI. 's entry 
into Paris — The children of the Marquis de Girardin— Death of the 
author's father — Dr. Bary Pp. 1-16 

CHAPTER II 

1780-1787 
Mme. de Frenilly's grief — Transformation of the Palais Royal — Anger against 
the Due de Chartres — Paris in 1780 — Dinners and suppers — Suckling — 
Hostesses — Importance of the Forty — Obstructions to traffic — The 
theatres — The fairs — Other pleasures of people of quality — Longchamp — 
Balls — The ball at the Opera — A tutor — Guiraudet-Brejole — D'Alembert — 
Comte de Tressan — Condorcet — Maury — Delille — Marmontel — Morellet — 
Lc Mariage de Figaro — The public mind — The newsmongers — The Cracow 
Tree — Metra — Patriotism — Louis XVI.'s nickname — Lafayette or Gilles 
Cesar — Travels — Ermenonville — Sojourn at Rheims — Reading — Religion 
— An excursion in Germany — Amsterdam — Holland — London — The Wool- 
wich review — Misfortunes of a notary — D'Orcy — Herault de Sechelles — 
Parisian actresses Pp. 17-34 

CHAPTER III 

1787 
Travels in Switzerland — Motiers-Travers — The Principality of Neuchiltel 
— M, de Garville — Saint-Gallen — Rorschach — Altstetten — Gais — Zurich 
— Lavater — Gessner — Glaris — Linththal — Ascent of the Todi — Wesen — 
Coire — Bergiin — The Engadine — St. Maurice — The Bernina Pass — Lago 
Bianco and Lago Nero — Tirano — Sondrio — The Lake of Como — Domaso 
and Gravedona — Chiavenna — Campodolcino — Reichenau — Andermatt — 
Realp — Obergestelen — The Grismel — The Reuse — Ponte del Diavolo — 
Altorf — The Rigi — Zug — Lucerne — Meiringen — Lauterbrunnen — Unter- 
seen — The Valais — Chamonix — Vevey — Disagreement with Brejole — 
Geneva — Coppet and Ferney — The Dauphine — Return to Paris 

Pp. 35-45 

CHAPTER IV 

1787-1791 

Entry into society — Unhealthy pride — Awkwardness and embarrassment — 

Paris in 1787 — Fashions and dresses— Breteuil — Mme. de Saint-Waast's 

Salon — Some Farmers-General — Delahante, Luzines, and Lauzon — Lorry, 

Bishop of Angers — TheValorys— D'Espremesnil— The Queen — The Polig^ 

nacs— Louis XVI. — Cardinal" de Rohan— Cagliostro—DOrmesson—Ca- 

xvii 



xviii CONTENTS 

lonne — Brienne — The Lycee — Garat — La Harpe — Mme. Recamier — Jour- 
ney in the Midi — Mme. de Bon — Aries — M. de Bsllefaye — The Beaucaire 
Fair — A nocturnal conversation — Brejole at Alais — The Cevennes — Mme. 
de Bon's Flight — Montpellier — Narbonne — Toulouse — Bordeaux — Two 
years' sojourn at Poitiers — The National Mind — The Nobility of Poitou — 
Intendant Nanteuil — Bishop Beaupoil de Sainte-Aulaire — The Beauregard 
Family — The Nieuils — The Marsillacs — The Marconnays — Presidents 
Chassenon and Bazoges — The Vigiers — The Moisins — The D'Asnieres — 
The Chasteigners — The D'Aloigny de Rocheforts — The Margarets — Mile. 
d'Esparts and Mile, de Pradel — The Chateau de Monts — The La Chastres 
— The three Turpin ladies — The Montalemberts — The Revolution — The 
Great Fear — Departure for Paris — The Federation of July 14, 1790 — 
Talleyrand — Paris and Versailles — The Club — Political conversations — 
Death of M. de Saint-Waast — The Hotel de Jonzac — Necker — Bailly — 
D'Orcy — Norvins — D'Alency — De Lessart — Mme. L'Empereur — Mme. Le 
Sen^chal — Arnault — Fiorian — Desfaucherets — The Parsevals — Flore be- 
comes Mme. de Romeuf — The Romenfs — Apparent peace — Journey in 
Touraine — Beaugency — Bois Bonnard — Poitiers — The cook Sichere — 
Monts and Rigny — Oiron — Flight of the King — The Emigration — The 
district of Lu5on — La Voulte in the Ard^che — Lafayette at Clermont and 
Chavaniac Pp. 46-99 

CHAPTER V 
1792-1798 
The H6tel de Jonzac — The Manege — The Declaration of War — First defeats — 
The 20th of June — The 10th of August — Beginning of the Terror — Loches 
— Alligny — Cosne — Chenonceaux — Mme. Dupin — Journey to Paris — Exe- 
cutions — The 9th of Thermidor — The La Goys — Sojourn at Chartres — 
Ivry — Return to Paris — Poverty — Defeat of the Faubourg Saint- Antoine 
— The Prulays — The Marcols — The 13th of Vendemiaire — The Directory 
— M. de Vind^ and his family — The Academie des Chansons — The Le- 
couteulx du Moleys — Nepomucene Lemercier — Baron de Stael — Mme. de 
Breg4 — Mme. d'Bsquelbecq — The Dillons and the Mallets— M. de Nervo — 
Play hissed at the Vaudeville — Pauline de Noailles — The Babeuf trial — 
The Vignys — Magnanville — Talleyrand — Laborie — Mme. Tallien — Mme. 
de Beauharnais — The tailor Dasse — Retirement — Death of the author's 
mother . Pp. 100-157 

CHAPTER VI 

1798-1799 

Poverty — Norvins — Lacretelle the Younger — Mme. de La Briche — Caroline 
Mole — Mathieu — Mmes. de Fezensac and de Vintimille — Mme. d'Houdetot, 
Saint-Lambert and M. d'Houdetot — Mme. de Rohan-Chabot — TheFashions 
— The Theatres — Lectures — VilUgiatures — Le Raincy — Groslay — L'Ermi- 
tage — Gr^try — Saint-Germain — Le Marais — The Comtesse de Damas and 
the Comtesse de Chastellux — Mme. Pastoret — Adrien de Mun — M. de 
Vaines — Pasquier — Alexandre de La Borde — Chateaubriand and Mme. de 
Beaumont — Mme. de Lubersac — Champlatreux — Sannois — Franconville — 
Mmes. de Remusat and de Nansouty — Mery — Christian de Lamoignon 

Pp. 158-181 
CHAPTER VII 
1800-1806 

Death of the Author's sister — His marriage — M. and Mme. de Mony — Rameau 
and Cavaignac — Bourneville — Bad years — Chdteaux and lords of the 
manor — The Thurys — Ferte-Milon — Villers-Cotterets — Crepy — The 
Wolves — Louis — The Peasants — Parisian Salons — M. de Sommariva — 
Mme. de Rumford — Birth of Claire — Aignan — Work at Bourneville — 
Birth of Olivier — Journey in Poitou — Napoleon's Coronation — Return to 
Paris , Pp. 182-212 



CONTENTS xix 

CHAPTER VIII 

1807 

Parisian Society — Urtubise — Mme. de Montbreton — La Comtesse d'AfiPry 

The Marquis de Lage — The Mortefontaines — Lullin de Chateauvieux 

Voarht — Julien — The Marais Theatre — Dazincourt — Death of M. de Vo^iie 
— Mol^ Prefect of the Cote-d'Or Pp. 213-224 

CHAPTER IX 
1808-lSlO 
Illness — Pieyre — Orleans — The Joan of Arc Fete— The Comtesse d'Affry again 
— Death of Mme. de Mony — Despr6aux's "petites jambes" — Napoleon's 
Divorce — The Royalists at the Tuileries — The King of Rome — Terray's 
Second Marriage — Cesarine d'Houdetot and Barante — Annette de Mackau 
and Watier de Saint-Alphonse Pp. 225-233 

CHAPTER X 

1811-1814 
Esmeaard — Oomte Germain — Marriage of the d'Houdetot Tribe — Napoleon 
and La B millerie — Tchernitscheff — Nipoleonand Poland — M. and Mme. 
de Crisenoy — Death of Mme. i'Houdetot — The Abbe Delille — Disasters — 
The Allies in France — Their conduct — Flight to Beauvais and Mesnil — A 
Day at Dreux — Return to Paris — The Abbe de Montesquieu — A Russian 
Colonel — Monsieur's entry into Paris — Louis XVIII. at Compi^gne — The 
Saint Ouen Declaration — The King in Paris — The Ministers 

Pp. 234-254 

CHAPTER XI 

1815 

Journey in Touraine — Napoleon's Return — Departure of Louis XVIII. — The 

Segurs — Nantes and General Foy — Rennes — Saint-Servan — Arrest — 

Release — Embarkation — A storm — Jersey — London — The "emigr6s" — 

Stoddart and Jerningham — Waterloo — Louis XVIII., Talleyrand and 

FouchS — The Due de Richelieu — Barb6-Marbois — Vaublanc — The " un- 

discoverable " Chamber — " Considerations sur une annee de I'histoire de 

France" — Return to Bourneville and reforms . . . Pp. 255-274 

CHAPTER XII 
1816 
Blacas — Decazes — The Amnesty Bill — The Due and Duchesse d'Angouleme — 
The Comte d'Artois — Bruges and VitroUes — Maxime de Choiseul — Nor- 
vins' Conversion — Despinoy — Laine — The Due de Narbonne — Marriage of 
the Due de Berry — Jeraiugham and Stoddart once more — Dissolution of 
the " undiscoverable " Chamber — The new Chamber — Famine — The 
Societe des Bonnes Etudes Pp. 275-286 

CHAPTER XIII 
1817 
Robert le Diable — Athalie — Cousin Thesigny — Moreau de la Sarthe — Insur- 
rectional movement at Lyons — Death of Mme. deStael — Mole — TheAbb6 
de Bombelles, Bishop of Amiens — Mme. d'Esquelbecq and her children 

Pp. 287-292 
CHAPTER XIV 
1818 
Dinners and Suppers — Mme. de Damas and Mme. de la Tremo'ille — Armand 
de Mackau — The Statue of Henri IV. — The Conservateur — Elections — 
Lafayette, Manuel, and Gregoire — Gouvion Saint-Cyr — Vill^le and Cor 
bifere— Vind6— The Missions— Richelieu . . Pp. 293-300 



XX CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XV 

1819 
H erve de Nantes and Lauriston — Bausset — The Talarus — Marriage of Claire 
and Camille de Pimodan— Marriage of Decazes and Mile, de Sainte- 
Aulaire Pp. 301-305 

CHAPTER XVI 

1820 
Assassination of the Due de Berry — Death of the Conserrdteur — Return of 
Parliamentary ambition Pp. 306-310 

CHAPTER XVII 
1821 
Official introduction to Monsieur — Death of Mme. de Crisenoy — The author's 
election as Deputy for Savenay — The Piet Group — Two Speeches — 
Martignac Pp. 311-315 

CHAPTER XVIII 

1822 

The Deputies of the Loire- Inferieure — Mme. du Cayla — The VillMe Ministry 

— Death of Fontanes — The La Eochejacqueleins — Chateaubriand at 

Verona — Journey in the Loire-Inferieure — Fttes and Banquets — Illness of 

the Author— Death of M. Mullon de Saint-Preux . . Pp. 316-326 

CHAPTER XIX 
1823 
Villfele — Expedition into Spain — The Due d'Angouleme and Martignac — The 
Andujar Decree — Baron de Damas — Olivier leaves Saint-Cyr — The 
Septennial Chamber Pp. 327-332 

CHAPTER XX 

1824 
The Chamber — Casimir Perier — Benjamin Constant — Bourrienne — The Report 
on the Budget — Conversion of the Rentes— Dismissal of Chateaubriand — 
Reconstruction of the Ministry — The author appointed a Counsellor of 
State — Death of Louis XVIII. — The funeral — Charles X. — Death of Mme. 
de Pimodan Pp. 333-342 

CHAPTER XXI 

1825 
Coronation of Charles X. — Deaths— General Toy . . .Pp. 843-848 

CHAPTER XXII 

1826 
Vaublanc — The Marquis de Riviere— Reduction of Taxation — Settlement of 
the San Domingo Indemnity — The Jubilee of Sainte-Genevi^ve — The 
Jesuits Pp. 349-352 

CHAPTER XXIII 

1827 

Death of the Duchesse de Damas — Review and Di&bandment of the National 

Guard — Olivier's Follies — The Osages — Application for a Peerage — The 

new batch of Peers — Fall of Navarin — Vill^le — The Martignac Ministry 

— The new Peers at the Luxembourg — Closing words . . Pp. 353-35& 

Index Pp. 361-382 



RECOLLECTIONS OF 

BARON DE FRENILLY 



CHAPTER I 

1768-1780 

Object of these Memoirs — The author's father and mother — His 
maternal relatives — His grandmother — His great uncle, M. de Saint- 
Waast — His paternal relatives — His uncle, M. de Fauveau — Cousin 
Flore — Cousins Chazet, the Marquise de Bon and Baronne de Mackau 
— Carmontelle — M. Pascal — Lekain and Mme. de Mesnil — The 
private tutor Thiriot — Mme. de Lavoisier — The Acad6mie de Saint- 
Ouen — Mme and Mile. Necker — Mme. Le S6n6chal — The Marquis 
de Bifivre — Rulhi^re — The Chevalier de Cercey — Monticour — 
Chastellux — Visit to Voltaire — Louis XVI. 's entry into Paris — The 
children of the Marquis de Girardin — Death of the author's father — 
Dr. Bary. 

Begmi in Rome, February 24, 1837. 
For some years past, in my hours of repose, and which are the 
only ones that fatigue me, I have thought of relating my life to 
myself — a life which, since it is neither that of Alexander, nor 
that of Gil Bias, but merely that of a modest private person 
who has passed his days in a fairly middle position, between the 
eagle and the mole. History will not tell to others. 

My story is, therefore, a secret, a disclosure made only to 
myself; it is a course of study to contribute to my education, 
which we never complete, and, as I am sixty-eight years of age, 
it is time to think about it. 

Speaking seriously, the project is a puerile one, for I have 
neither the hope nor the determination to absorb the world with 
my outre-tonibe, like Rousseau and M. de Chateaubriand. But 

1 A 



2 BARON DE FRENILLY 

it is precisely because it is puerile that I am carrying it out. 
Since old age has really been creeping upon me and energy has 
begim to fail, ray physical strength, which calls for repose, has 
been in perpetual conflict with my moral strength, which is ever 
at work. I must make peace between these two powers, pushing 
forward with one as long as it supports me, talking nonsense 
with the other when it abandons me, and keeping in reserve 
such trifles as will enable me to pass from a fatiguing work to 
one that is reposeful. That is why I am undertaking this 
puerile project of relating to myself the story of my life. My 
hours of weariness — my evil hours — will be devoted to it ; so I 
begin to-day, February 24, 1837, at Rome, because it is raining, 
and because I have neither the strength to remain idle nor the 
courage to return for a day to that study of parliamentary 
history which calls for uninteiTupted work and meditation.^ 
Therefore, I begin my book this morning. 

I was born in Paris on November 14, 1768, — I believe in 
the narrow Rue Saint- Pierre, near the Place des Victoires and 
the Palais Royal, for at that time, with the exception of the 
high nobility, which inhabited the Faubourg Saint Germain, 
and the magistracy, which was retrenching in the austere Marais 
quarter, all the best society of Paris, and especially those who 
were at the head of the money market, grouped together in the 
neighbourhood of the Palais Royal and the Tuileries. My 
family belonged to the last-named class, which, since the glory 
of Louis XIV. had ruined the nobility, since the Regent had 
thrown the public fortune into the hands of farmers of the 
revenue, and since large fortunes had melted at the same time 
as noble birth, had taken a sort of State position. Philosophy 
then completed the work of levelling, and it was not easy to 
find in the State many positions superior to those of a Farmer 
General and a member of the Academy.^ 

My father was a man of the world : handsome, smiling and 
agreeable, full of kindness and wit. He wrote very pretty 

1 Frenilly was engaged on a Parliamentary History of England, which he 
never completed. — A. C. 

2 To form an idea of what a Farmer-General then was, see the Memoirs of 
Mme. d'Epinay. — F. 



THE AUTHOR'S MOTHER 3 

verses, was intimately acquainted with the wits of the day, loved 
luxury and expense, but — what was less common — loved his 
wife and children better than anything else. 

My mother was the most remarkable woman I have ever 
known. During my fairly long life her memory has been a 
unique model for me. With a transcendent mind — I in no way 
exaggerate — great attainments, and talents of the first order in 
music and painting, she combined a modesty and simplicity 
which went as far as self-ignorance. She possessed grace, 
perfect manners, taste, and tact, and, if I myself have anything 
of that gloss, I owe it to the fact of having lived thirty years 
with her. Finally, and this is the most astonishing of her 
contrasts, to nobility of soul, to a mind full of strength and 
energy, she united tenderness of heart, charity, and inexhaustible 
indulgence. She was a long time severe towards me, whom she 
worshipped, and this was not her least sacrifice. Let me give 
an example of her justice. When six or seven, I used to scratch 
my sister, who was two years younger. One day when the 
offence was manifestly more serious than usual, my mother calmly 
took me between her knees, drew a black pin from her hair and 
made a gash of the finest red from one end of my hand to the 
other. I uttered not a sound. The retaliation was a trifle harsh, 
but there was an accumulation of offences and it appeared to me 
to be just. I can remember this execution as though it had 
happened yesterday : I can see my mother, her hair, her arm- 
chair between a writing-desk and a window, and that pin — a 
veritable Damocles"" sword — suspended over my hand. I believe 
that since then I have scratched no one. 

My mother's family was limited to two persons : her mother 
and uncle. My grandmother, Mme. Chastelain, a woman of 
great judgment but hardhearted, had brought up her daughter, 
and I have often heard my poor mother say to my sister, whom 
she, in her turn, was bringing up : " You Avill never be equal to 
me, because you have not been brought up as well as I was." 
Such as she was, this grandmother loved me as much as she 
was able, for she had placed her pride in me, a boy of some 
promise. She gave a soiree to clever people on Saturdays, 
a dinner on Sundays, and a supper on Wednesdays. I was 
early initiated into these mysteries, the hierophant of which 



4 BARON DE FRENILLY 

was the celebrated Abbe de Mably, and I did not appreciate 
their glory. 

My mother's uncle, M. de Saint- Waast, Administrator- 
General of Crown Lands, who was exceedingly rich, and whose 
fortune she was to inherit, was an excellent man ; simple, 
jovial, witty, and generous. He loved magnificence, but with 
taste and discernment. I have never seen in any palace greater 
or more elegant luxury than that shown in the salon of the 
house which he had built opposite the Tuileries. In his 
library was the celebrated Frileuse, which Houdon had made 
for him. His wife, a good and clever woman, but firmer and 
colder than he was, received a numerous company composed of 
men of wit, rank, and finance.'^ 

My mother, sister and I were the joy of this house. I lost 
my great-uncle a year after my grandmother. Hardly were 
his eyes closed than the Revolution, which was already 
destroying everything, suppressed his post and seized a 
donation which he had just made in favour of twelve annual 
marriages in his parish of Saint-Roch. 

My father''s family was young, joyous and amiable, and of 
my childhood I recall only games and pleasure. His brother, 
M. de Fauveau, and his sisters, Mmes. de Thesigny and de 
Chazet, who all lived near him and the Palais Royal, had fine 
houses, honourable luxury, and children of my own age. We 
were ten cousin s-german. 

M. de Fauveau was pre-eminently a man of honour and 
virtue ; Mme. de Thesigny, a pale, cold, kind and careless 
beauty ; Mme. de Chazet, a model of grace, goodness, petu- 
lance and piety. 

1 It was here that I made my dihut. A young man's enti'y into society 
necessitated deep study in those days and formed, after philosophy and the 
humanities, the last part of his education. It required no small skill to enter 
with assurance and grace into a drawing-room where thirty men and women 
were seated in a circle around the fire, to enter this circle with a slight 
circular bow, to advance to the hostess, and to retire with honour, whilst 
managing without awkwardness a dress-coat, lace, a head-dress of thirty-six 
powdered curls, a hat under the arm, a sword the poiut of which reached to 
the heels, and, finally, an enormous muff, the smallest of which was two feet 
and a half in length and about the same in circumference. I took a month's 
lessons with the celebrated Petit, at twelve francs each and never did actor 
tremble more than I did at my d^but. — F. 



CARMONTELLE 5 

One of the women for whom I have had the most affection 
was one of M. de Fauveau's daughters, my cousin Flore — my 
dear Flore, as I always called her. Flore — so good, so bloom- 
ing, and so pretty — was like a sister of my sister, and she 
remained so to me as long as she lived. 

Mme. de Chazet had two charming daughters. The eldest, 
the Marquise de Bon, a pretty woman, in the full acceptation 
of the word, brilliant, coquettish, and a leader of fashion, died 
ruined and in isolation, after having lost her husband and all 
her children. The other, the Baronne de Mackau, was, after 
my mother, the most celestial creature I can remember. 

These four intimately united families — Frenilly, Fauveau, 
Thesigny, and Chazet — had chosen the four Mondays of each 
month for their receptions, and the same company met alter- 
nately at their suppers They often played the Proverbs of 
Carmontelle, who was then the soul and arbiter of all the 
pleasures of good taste in the fashionable world of Paris. He 
was a thin man, with a long and severe face, a sardonic laugh, 
an imperious and choleric disposition ; but hidden under this 
rugged exterior were a very good heart and a singularly lofty 
soul. He began his career as tutor to the children of the 
Marquis d'Armentieres. Then he became reader to the Due 
d'Orleans. His ambition went no further. All the more 
proud as he became poorer, little sufficed for him. He dined 
everywhere, and nowhere was he regarded as a parasite. He 
amused everybody, and as a friend who confers an obligation. 
He possessed all the little talents suitable for the century, the 
little century in which he lived. With a few strokes of his 
brush or pencil, he drew poor portraits, but good likenesses, 
some of which I have preserved, including one of Mile. Necker. 
He designed and planted gardens that were somewhat extra- 
ordinary, for they were not French, and he got angry if you 
called them English. He planted my father"'s garden at Saint- 
Ouen and the famous one of Mousseaux,^ on the wall of which 
he had written : " This is not an English garden."" People of 
the reign of Louis XIV. would as soon have dispensed with 
Le Notre as those of my day would have done without 
Carmontelle. And what else did he not do ! His Proverbs 
1 Now Monceaux. — A.C. 



6 BARON DE FRENILLY 

were not over-good, but he succeeded in catching the tone, 
style and manners of different classes of society with great 
truth and sometimes piquancy. They had been performed at 
Villers-Cotterets, where they compensated for the weariness 
produced by Mme. de Montesson's plays. Thence they had 
passed into every salon ; nothing else was played there ; and 
thus Carmontelle became the Scribe of his epoch. ^ 

But I am wandering from my subject, so let me try to get 
back to it by relating an anecdote of my infancy. It relates 
to a phrase which, said quite innocently by a child of eight or 
nine, did more harm to three people than the most cutting 
satire. In the house which my father then inhabited, in the 
Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, there also lived a M. Pascal, an 
officer of the Cent Suisses, a bachelor of forty or fifty, and the 
member of an honourable family of Proven9e. Handsome, 
well-bred, rich, he could count as many friends as acquaint- 
ances and as many tables and boxes as friends. He was 
expected everywhere, and was scolded when he did not put in 
an appearance. Well, one day this excellent M. Pascal arrived 
at my father's a quarter of an hour before dinner. As soon as 
he appeared in the salon doorway, and before my parents had 
had time to thank him for his attention, their eight-year-old 
brat cried out : " Ah ! here's M. Pascal who has come to beg 
for his dinner." Try to imagine anything more cutting for 
one person and more embarrassing for the two others ! The 
phrase could not be mine. Had it been used by a servant ? 
I do not recollect. By my parents ? Impossible ! I do not 
know whether I received one, two or three boxes on the ears ; 
for my father was not sparing of them. But I was over- 
whelmed with taunts and for the next week was nicknamed 
" Monsieur le mendiant." I apologised, and on the following 
day again offered ray excuses, but the wound remained. 

This story shows that I had advanced beyond my years, a 
state of things to which my father had perhaps contributed. 
He took me everywhere, especially to his box at the Fran^ais, 
where I have seen Lekain and Mile, de Mesnil act. 

1 Carmontelle (1717-1806), reader to the Due d'Orleans and orderer of his 
f6tes, was the author of eight volumes of Prorerles, which had a great 
success. He was, says Sainte-Beuve, the great creator of this form of com- 
position. — A. 



STAGE ANACHRONISMS 7 

Lekain took the part of Orestes in a black wig a la Louis XIV. ^ 
a maroon velvet dress-coat with gold frogs, a red satin waist- 
coat, stockings to match, and a three-cornered gallooned hat 
with a red feather. This costume astonished no one ; it was 
according to tradition, and people would have been scandalised 
had they seen him wearing a toga and brodekins. Mile. Clairon, 
of the Fran^ais, and Mme. Saint- Huberty, of the Opera, were 
the first who dared, not without causing a great uproar, to be 
Greeks and Romans. The reform was long in taking hold. I 
have also seen Vestris pere and Gardel dance the ballet of the 
Horatii and the Curiatii in the lower part of a Roman habit, a 
doublet, trunk hose, stockings, shoes, and white gloves and hat 
a la Henry IV. We know the story of Mile, de Mesnil, who, 
when playing the part of Camilla and fleeing from Horace's 
poniard, got entangled in her hooped skirts and fell on the 
stage. Horace sheathed his dagger, put on his gloves, politely 
assisted her to rise, and killed her in the side scene. I can see 
her, too, playing Clytemnestra in a farthingale two ells long 
and soldiers a chappins. 

" Chappins " were a kind of very high and pointed heels, on 
which all women then balanced themselves. Consequently they 
walked very slowly and only in drawing-rooms or in the main 
alley at the Palais Royal. " Chappins,"" like hoop-petticoats, 
have, therefore, had some influence on social manners. 

In addition to taking me to the theatre, my father taught 
me Latin, for he was a very good litterateur. But I also had 
a private tutor, named M. Thiriot, an honest and poor pro- 
fessor from I knov/ not what college. He was a Don Quixote 
in wig, black coat, waistcoat and breeches ; an ideal pedant, 
but the best man in the world. In summer he came to Saint- 
Ouen once or twice a week, in the morning ; and, owing to the 
heat, used to take off" his wig and substitute for it a square, 
white paper cap, which, at the beginning of the lesson, sent 
my sister and I into fits of joy. 

At the same time M. Thiriot taught Latin to the celebrated 
Mme. de Lavoisier, wife of the chemist and Farmer-General, and 
since Comtesse de Rumford. She was intimately acquainted 
with my parents, and was twelve years older than myself, whom 
she called her college comrade. She was young but not pretty, 



8 BARON DE FRENILLY 

rather pedantic, in tone and manners beyond those of the 
Marais, and, moreover, singularly economical, to use no stronger 
term. At the time when the Lycee lectures, near the Palais 
Royal, were fashionable, she borrowed my father''s carriage in 
the evening, attended two or three lectures on science, had 
herself driven to my uncle's, sent the carriage home, and, after 
having had supper, wearing her thick shoes, took her lackey's 
arm and walked from the Tuileries to the Arsenal. We know 
what a fortune she has just left. 

To stimulate my emulation and sow in me the seeds of a 
great man, either of the Academy or of something else, nothing 
was spared. Emulation — ^^that is, the desire to be above 
others — was the great epidemic of those days. 

Our emulation, however, was not such as threatened social 
repose. Without leaving the family my parents had formed a 
little academy, the Academie de Saint-Ouen, of which they 
were the judges and we children the candidates. It met every 
Sunday morning at my father's. After breakfast and a kite- 
flying match in the garden, we received an historical text, which 
we had to develop, full liberty being given us to be either 
Livy, Sallust, or Tacitus, just as the fancy took us. Each of 
us had a separate study. In addition to my sister and myself, 
the competitors were my cousins Adele and Felicite de Chazet 
and Mile. Necker. The country house of M. Necker, who, I 
believe, was already Controller- General, adjoined my father's, 
so the two neighbours knew each other. Mile. Necker was 
educated alone at Saint-Ouen by an excellent Mile. Bernard, a 
Protestant of Geneva. Mme. Necker was delighted that her 
daughter, whom she did not intend should make a noise in the 
world, should find good examples and peaceful emulation in my 
father's house. 

To return to the subject of our academic exercises. When 
each had finished his or her work, and whilst we were playing, 
the Areopagus delivered its judgment in writing. The prize 
was a wreath of roses, and the accessit a bouquet. Then we 
had dinner, followed by a walk, in the couise of which it was 
no small glory for the victor to show his or her crowned brow 
to the respectful country people of Saint-Ouen. We were 
already following Caesar's principles. Sometimes this brilliant 



PRIVATE THEATRICALS 9 

day was concluded by the performance of a play by the good 
Mile. Bernard, who made it virtuous, pathetic and short. 

Private theatricals were then in great vogue in society. My 
father, his brother Fauveau, his sister Mme. de Chazet, and 
especially my mother, all acted well. The craze had even 
descended a few rungs of the social ladder, for I remember a 
performance of Athalie given by the family of our Saint-Ouen 
gardener. His daughter, Mile. Nanette, a pretty little person 
of fifteen who weeded the kitchen-o-arden in the mornine: and 
studied her part in the evening, represented the Queen of the 
Jews. The small people were then more reasonable than their 
elders. Their taste, since they called for Racine, had an upward 
tendency ; whereas the big people played the Savoyards, and 
the Keeper of the Seals, M. de Miromesnil, the Crispins. 

I must say still a few words — they will, alas ! be of the 
nature of an adieu — about this dear Saint-Ouen house, which 
is identified in my memory with only happy days, and with 
people that were agreeable and cheerful. My father had had 
it elegantly furnished. He possessed a perfect cook, the illus- 
trious Vacossin. Here we have proof of my orderly mind : I 
mention the cook before the guests. These were numerous. 
They came from Paris in the afternoon or evening, returning 
home after supper. I can still see in my mind's eye a fairly 
large salon with eight windows separated by fluted Corinthian 
pilasters, large mirrors at each end, and a piece of furniture 
upholstered in white flowered chintz. When this sort of gallery 
was well illuminated and filled with from twenty to forty people, 
the efffect was most gay and agreeable. 

Very few names return to me. I remember, however, the 
amiable, lively and good Mme. Le Senechal, who, after having 
had the face of a Hebe, was still beautiful ; also her three 
charming daughters. Her husband, who was the most excellent 
man in the world and not lacking in wit, owned that beautiful 
Villemoisson estate, \he fetes of which were frequented by all 
the fashionable people of Paris. An intimate friend of my 
parents, Mme. I-e Senechal remained mine also to the end of 
her days, which closed with misfortune but without her ceasing 
to be cheerful, naive, and spirituelle. 

I may also mention the Marquis de BievTe, who was better 



10 BARON DE FRENILLY 

than his puns, and Rulhiere, who made that piquant epigram 
on Florian's fauteuil at the Academy : 

Auteur actif et guerrier sage, 
II combat peu, mais il ecrit : 
II dut la croix -X son esprit 
Et le fauteuil ^ son courage. 

Rulhiere was a man with the face and appearance of a fox, 
and a fondness for appearing to be simple, easy and absent- 
minded. Nevertheless, he was a superior writer and a charming 
teller of stories. 

There was likewise the Chevalier de Cercey, a cavalry officer 
who had been left for dead at the Battle of Rosbach, whence 
he returned with a band of black velvet which half covered his 
forehead, extreme deafness, and an ear-trumpet which he 
handled so skilfully that he was able to take part in all the 
conversation. He was a model of urbanity, modesty and good 
manners. One day he related that a certain officer, a polite 
and obliging man, received an order to give no quarter. One 
of the enemy, taken prisoner in the melee, asked him to spare 
his life. " Ah ! monsieur," he replied, " ask me for anything 
else you like save that." He also told a story of an officer 
who, charged to superintend the burial of the dead after a 
battle, imagined he saw some of the bodies move and informed 
the gravediggers. " Let them be, sir," replied one of the 
men, " if we listened to them, not one of them would be 
dead." 

Then there was Monticour, Sterne's friend and the 
hereditary friend of my family, a man full of wit and 
humour, a dry joker who was called the king of banterers. I 
saw him in his eightieth year take the part of Cupid at my 
grandmother's fete. He was dressed entirely in white, with 
wings and quiver on his back, and a bow in his hand ; and his 
head was as bald as a bladder of lard. He died shortly after- 
wards of apoplexy whilst walking with us in his Neuilly 
gardens. 

Finally, I find amongst the cream of my father's friends the 
Chevalier, since the Marquis de Chastellux, a tall man with a 
pale, noble face, a man without emotion, but possessed of a 



A PARISIAN CRAZE 11 

desire for intellect, glory and fortune. He had then acquired 
only the first of these. He sought glory in the American 
War, and fortune came to him through the death of his elder 
brother. He was my father's great friend and had replaced 
the good M. Pascal in an apartment of the Paris house. We 
saw him return from America with a quarto volume of 
memoirs which I have never read, and which D'Alembert called 
a catalogue of inns. This catalogue, combined with two 
volumes on La felicite publique, which Voltaire praised, as he 
praises every man of quality, opened the Academy''s doors to 
him.^ He then committed two pieces of stupidity : one by 
giving, like many others, a hundred louis for Mesmer's secret ; 
the other by allowing himself to be drawn by Mme. de Genlis 
into a ridiculous mariage de conscience, at Spa, with Miss 
Plunkett. I will give only one example of his wit, which was 
ever dry and sometimes rather piquant. It refers to a time when 
Paris had a craze for folles. Everybody aspired to the pro- 
duction of a folle, that is, a short, sentimental story the heroine 
of which was a madwoman. Now, Mme. de Stael felt that she 
also must write one. One day when the Chevalier de Chastel- 
lux entered her drawing-room, she rushed towards him with 
the announcement : " Chevalier, I have produced a folle.'''' 
" Oh ! " he gravely replied, " I thought it was your 
mother."" 

I have mentioned Voltaire and his name brings me to the 
greatest adventure of my infancy. It happened in the 
summer of 1778, when he was eighty-three years of age and 
I barely ten. He had obtained permission to visit Paris, and 
everybody will remember the frenzied ovation which greeted 
him. His horses were unharnessed at the Porte du Carrousel, 
his carriage was drawn by the young poets of the day to 
the Fran^ais, where he was received amidst the convulsive 
applaiise of the whole house, and, finally, at the close of the 
worst of his tragedies, his bust was crowned by Clairon. His 

1 Chastellux wrote Voyages dans VAmirique septentrionale (1786, two vols, 
in 8vo), having previously published Be la filiciU publujue, ou cmsid6rations 
iur le sort des hommes dans les diffirentes ipoq}ies de I'histoire (1772-1776, two 
vols, in Svo) which Voltaire did not hesitate to rank above L" Esprit des 
lots. — A.C. 



12 BARON DE FRENII.LY 

friends feared that this triumph might be followed by ill- 
effects, so they would allow him to receive no one. But my 
mother, fascinated also and unable, to her great regret, to 
approach the idol, desired that at least her son should some day 
be able to say to his grandchildren : " I have seen Voltaire." 
Thespian was nothing else than to get me into his sanctuary by 
hook or by crook. It was necessary, however, that I should be 
an accomplice, and here was a difficulty, for I pulled a terrible 
face on hearing of the proposal. But an appeal to honour and 
glory, backed up by a promise of coffee, at last made me 
consent to be an astonishing child. For the next week my 
poor mother filled my head with lines and poems by Voltaire 
appropriate for the occasion. Every question that the great 
man might put was foreseen and the answer docketed in my 
brain. The day arrived. They helped me on with my apple- 
green satin coat, lined with pink, green satin breeches, white 
silk stockings, and buckled shoes, completing my toilet with 
sword, hat, and a triple row of curls. Poor little monkeys that 
we were ! It was thus that they dressed us ! My mother gave 
me a letter for Voltaire, doubtless one of effusive admiration on 
the part of an unknown woman for a man of universal reputa- 
tion. It was to serve me, if need be, as a passport, and if any 
one questioned me before introducing me I was instructed to 
say that it was from M. d'Arget, a friend of Voltaire and my 
father. Getting into our carriage, we reached the Pont Royal, 
some thirty yards from the Rue de Beaune, at the comer of 
which was the Marquis de Villette's house. I descended, and, 
leaving my mother to wait for me, found myself, in my apple- 
green satin coat, in the midst of the people on the Quai des 
Theatins. Though my legs rather trembled, I arrived at my 
destination without getting muddy, which appeared to me to 
be an important part of my mission. I passed through the 
carriage-entrance, unchallenged by doorkeeper, and then 
mounted on the right a small ground-floor staircase the plan of 
which I had in my head. " Where is Monsieur going ? " asked 
a sort of valet de chainhre. " I am going to M. de Voltaire's," 
I replied, rather proudly, I believe. Thereupon a little door 
was opened and I found myself face to face with a tall skeleton 
buried in a large armchair and wearing on his head a huge 



INTERVIEW WITH VOLTAIRE 13 

bearskin cap which covered him down to his eyes. It was 
Voltaire. ... I had counted on passing through ante-rooms 
and salons, which would have given me time to prepare myself. 
I was dragged from my quandary by a cavernous voice saying : 
" Oh ! what a pretty child ! Come near, my little friend.'" 
" Monsieur, I have the honour ..." I began. " And from 
whom is this letter ? " asked the old man. " Monsieur, it is 
from M. d'Arget." (Oh ! unhappy mother !) " And what is 
your name ? " " Monsieur, my name is Frenilly." (Unhappy 
mother ! I had ten lines of verse in reply to this question.) 
" And who is your father ? " " Monsieur, he is Receiver- 
General."''' (Thrice unhappy mother ! there were six lines in 
response to this.) I have forgotten the other questions, to 
which I doubtless replied with the same happy appropriateness, 
and which the great man frequently interlarded with : " Oh ! 
what a pretty child ! " There was brought in an enormous 
Savoy biscuit, the appearance of which has remained as deeply 
engraved on my memory as Voltaire's face. I was horribly 
greedy, and still am. But my honour was at stake and I was 
already aware that there are occasions when the appetite must 
give way before glory. I believe, too, that I was rather hurt 
at them for having offered a biscuit to a man who had just 
concluded so dangerous an enterprise. In short, I neither ate, 
drank, nor spoke. I bowed, backed out of the room, passed 
down the staircase, through the door on to the Quay, and 
jumped into my mother's carriage. " Well," she said, " have 
you seen Voltaire ? " " Yes," replied I, proudly. " Did he 
speak to you ? " " Yes." " Did you give the letter into his 
ovra hands ? "^ " Yes." " And from whom did you say it was ? " 
" From M. d'Arget ! ! ! " I draw a veil over my mother's 
sorrow. Nevertheless, this adventure created a sensation ; 
people spoke of nothing else ; and two days later, the Journal 
de Paris, which was almost as truthful then as it is now, said 
that a charming child had escaped from its parents' house in 
order to pay homage to Voltaire. Who would have told me, 
in the midst of this general infatuation, that, on reaching early 
youth, I should have sufficient intelligence to draw from his 
own works the disdain and aversion with which this deadly man 
has ever inspired me ? 



14 BARON DE FRENILLY 

But I have omitted from my chronicle the record of an event 
which is still fresh in my memory. I was only seven years old 
when Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, after the death of 
Louis XV., made their first entry into Paris. I was taken to 
see the magnificent procession. The king''s face was not agree- 
able but very noble. The queen was fresh and radiant, and 
her face was animated by goodness and gaiety. Dressed in 
white, they sat in one of those magnificent carriages which were 
monuments of sculpture and chiselling, and which have since 
been imitated so meanly. I was struck by the pacific, elegant, 
almost gallant nature of the pomp. There was nothing military 
about it. Everything was civil : the ofiicers of the various 
maisons, those of the stables, the company of the royal chases, 
and the falconers. Even the Cent Suisses with their ancient 
ruffles, and the bodyguards, in their handsome red and blue 
costumes, thickly covered with gold, awakened no warlike idea. 
The last thirty years have seen a great change in these cere- 
monies, which are now the occasion for the display of veritable 
armies. They have the air of laying siege to Notre-Dame in 
order to hear there a Te Deum. 

It seems to me that shortly afterwards I witnessed a second 
entry of the king. He had just laid the first stone of the 
Revolution by dissolving the Maupeou Parliament and re-estab- 
lishing the ancient one. The rabble of Paris rejoiced without 
knowing why. Everywhere they sang CoUe's pretty song called 
Revenants, and also the following lines, to the air of Sous le 

nom de ramitie : 

Sur la route de Chatou 

Le peuple s'achemine 

Pour voir la triste mine 

Du chancelier Maupeou, 

Sur la rou . . . 

Sur la rou . . . 

Sur la route de Chatou. 

A reform which was then more important to me than that 
of the Parliament was that attempted by the Marquis de 
Girardin. This gentleman, a neighbour of Rousseau and the 
father of three sons of my own age, dared to brave the talk of 
the town by a change in his children's dress. A number of us 
Parisian children, brought up, like me, with their parents, used 



REFORM IN CHILDREN'S DRESS 15 

to meet in the Tuileries to play, dressed in breeches, stockino-s 
and pumps, and with ruffles round our wrists and three-cornered 
hats on our heads. One afternoon we saw the three Girardins 
arrive in the dress of English sailors : round hat, waistcoat 
without skirt, and trousers/ There was at first a general hue 
and cry. Then we got accustomed to the costume, envied it 
and I more than any one else. One day when I was extollino- 
the happiness of the Girardins in being free from curl-papers, 
curling-irons, powder, pomade, and especially the fear of being 
grumbled at for holes and stains, my father said : " Well, would 
you like to be like them ? " " Ah ! '' I replied, " with all my 
heart ! " And so my pigtail was suddenly cut ; my club 
disappeared ; and my hair became its natural colour, straight 
or curled, as it liked, to the great contentment of M. Favier, 
the valet de chambre. 

I believe that I have now exhausted all my recollections up 
to the period which separated, in a way, my childhood and 
early youth. This period was that of the death of my father. 
When twelve years old I caught small-pox at Saint-Ouen. The 
whole household took it from me, with the exception of my 
mother, who had been the first person in France to be inocu- 
lated when the celebrated La Condamine, my grandmother's 
friend, brought the discovery from the New World. My attack 
was terrible, and the remedies still more so, for after my conva- 
lescence I had to be carried about for six months. Nevertheless, 
the disease made but one victim — my father. As soon as the 
first symptoms of my disease made their appearance, he had 
been exiled to Paris. He did not reappear at Saint-Ouen until 
all were cured and everything was purified. But even then he 
did not enter the house ; he stood in the garden, and saw me 
held up at a window. He was impressed by my red face. The 
same evening he was seized with small-pox — and Dr. Bary did 
the rest. The celebrated and elegant Bary was a friend of the 
family, which is always a misfortune. It is permissible to have 
a doctor as a friend, but you ought never to have a friend as a 
doctor. Bary literally killed my father, who, in addition to 

1 See La Revue d'hist. litt. de la France, No. 1, 1906, p. 108, for the account 
of the architect Paris who saw the GirardinB, father and sons, at Ermenonville, 
dressed in "blue English cloth." — A.C, 



16 



BARON DE FRENILLY 



possessing that pure blood which he transmitted to me, was full 
of health and strength. My grandmother, who was also his 
friend, was, a few years later, led to the brink of the grave by 
this same doctor. She had an iron constitution, which he 
extenuated for six months with ptisan and fasting, until my 
mother who, as may well be imagined, had retained little con- 
fidence in him, at last forced her to see Malouet. After feeling 
her pulse, Malouet said : " Madame, eat." She ate and a week 
later was quite well. 



CHAPTER II 

1780-1787 

Mme. de Frenilly's grief — Transformation of the Palais Royal — 
Anger against the Due de Chartres — Paris in 1780 — Dinners and 
suppers — Suckling — Hostesses — Importance of the Forty — Obstruc- 
tions to traffic — The theatres — The fairs — Other pleasures of people of 
quality — Longchamp — Balls — The ball at the Op6ra — A tutor — 
Guiraudet-Br6jole — D'Alembert — Comte de Tressan — Condorcet — 
Maury — Delille — Marmontel — Morellet — Le Mariage de i^garo — The 
public mind — The newsmongers — The Cracow Tree — M6tra — 
Patriotism — Louis XVI, 's nickname — Lafayette or Gilles C6sar — 
Travels — Ermenonville — Sojourn at Rheims — Reading — Religion — An 
excursion in Germany — Amsterdam — Holland — London — The 
Woolwich review — Misfortunes of a notary — D'Orcy — H6rault de 
B§chelles — Parisian actresses. 

My mother''s grief was typical of what she was everywhere : 
tender to others, harsh to herself alone. Her heart seemed to 
crave for remorse. No longer wishing to return to Saint-Ouen, 
she sold her house and retired to the solitudes of the Bois de 
Boulogne, at Neuilly. She still had a mother, an uncle and 
two children. But my uncle's brilliant house offended her ; 
she was no longer the woman who charmed all circles ; she was 
but a mother impressed with a sense of her duties. We 
children profited by what society lost, and our education was 
the only thing which did not suffer from the loss of our 
father. Thus a year passed by, at the end of which time she 
changed her residence in the Rue des Petits-Champs, which 
had become a place of anguish to her, for one of those pretty 
houses which the Farmer- General of the Hague had just built 
on the Boulevard de la Madeleine. She devoted all her 
evenings to her mother, and, when my grandmother died, her 
uncle, who had become infirm, inherited this daily devotion. 

17 B 



18 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Solidly educated and knowing well her Latin authors, my 
mother flattered herself with the idea of completing my 
education herself. But a few months of the work convinced 
her that it was necessary to place me in the hands of a man. 
A governor was got for me ; and this was a second widowhood 
for my mother. 

Before speaking of this revolution in my education, I must 
say a few words on the subject of a social revolution which 
then took place and which preluded, by the upheaval of a 
quarter, the downfall of a kingdom. I refer to the destruction 
of the Palais Royal. The old Due d'Orleans, who had retired 
with Mme. de Montesson to his fine house in the Chaussee 
d'Antin, had abandoned Cardinal de Richelieu's magnificent 
domain to his son, the Due de Chartres. Its large garden, 
bordered on the west by the Palace, was lined on its three 
other sides by rows of houses which, owing to their position, 
were priceless. Straight alleys, pieces of water and flower beds 
divided it, whilst on the southern side was that fine alley of 
chestnut trees which was unrivalled in France for its antiquity, 
its breadth, and its superb vault, impenetrable to the sun. 
At its far end was the Orangery. This immense green nave 
formed, ever since the days of Anne of Austria, the common 
salon of the whole of the good society of Paris, without dis- 
tinction of quarters. Evening was the time for promenading, 
and in summer — for people then lived in Paris all the year 
round — they never left the Opera without coming to the Palais 
Royal. 

It was the fashionable promenade, one where you saw 
nothing save feathers, diamonds, embroidered coats, and red- 
heeled shoes. A chenille^ that is a dress-coat and a round hat, 
would not have dared to appear there. The Cafe de Foy and 
the Cafe du Caveau, which alone have outlived revolutions, 
made colossal fortunes. In short, the Palais Royal was the 
heart and soul of Parisian aristocracy. And that was what the 
Due de Chartres undertook one day to destroy. He was 
doubtless ignorant of the reply made to James I. when he 
wished to build on St. James's Park and asked what it would 
cost him : " Only three crowns." I saw the axe applied to the 
foot of the first chestnut of the alley, and the fall of that tree 



SOCIAL CUSTOMS IN 1780 19 

provoked a universal cry of sorrow or rather fury. There was 
no crime of which such a Vandal was incapable. My ears still 
ring with the songs — most of them very stinging — composed 
around his name, and thus did public hatred transform a base, 
dull man into one wicked and guilty. The Palais' Royal 
became what it is to-day ; its verdant dra'wing-room was trans- 
formed into a bazaar, shops succeeded red-heeled shoes, the 
ell-stick replaced the sword, and the reign of democracy began 
in Paris. 

Why should I not stop here for a few moments to describe 
some of the features of the Paris of those days ? 

People dined at two o"'clock and supped at ten. Dinners 
were grand, formal affairs ; suppers informal parties of pleasure. 
They supped after the theatre, which began between five and 
six and finished between eight and nine. After supper, they 
played cards, and a hostess required no small skill in assorting 
the partners. But a few women, a few wits, and some of the 
young people did not play, or if they did, played but a hasty 
game of reversis. Gaming, conversation and laughter often 
prolonged a gathering until two in the morning. Pleasure was 
people's only occupation. They rose late. I saw the in- 
auguration of the fashion of not taking supper. Guests 
remained in the drawing-room, and the expression " I do not 
sup " was equivalent to saying " I dine late." It was a proof 
of good manners always to do the same things later than other 
people. I also saw another fashion started at these suppers, 
one peculiar to ladies ; that of having their babies brought 
into the midst of thirty people and of suckling them in a 
comer of the salon — poor victims of Rousseau who, instead of 
suckling at the breast of a sturdy peasant, were made to take, 
in a salle defite^ the heated milk of their sensitive mothers. 
Then, if that was the triumph of Nature over common sense, I 
witnessed the starting of a third fashion which was the triumph 
of fashionable manners over Nature : young women no longer 
danced when they had had a child. With their twenty summers 
and rosy cheeks they used to say to you : " I am too old, I no 
longer dance." But after the Revolution these old women of 
twenty found their legs again and at thirty danced indefatigably. 

Theatre-going was not, as in Italy and in part of Germany, 



20 BARON DE FRENILLY 

an obligatory evening occupation. There were many agreeable 
houses where hostesses received either constantly or on fixed 
days. And what superior talent they showed — talent all the 
greater as it was less apparent ! To captivate their guests — 
to direct, prolong, resume, or abridge a conversation — to have 
a look and a word for every one, to introduce a third person 
into a familiar chat by means of a glance or a word, to put 
him or her into relations with others, to make them known 
without either the mention of names or an introduction — what 
a charming, delicate art ! Above all you should have seen 
what importance was attached in these circles to one of the 
Forty of the Academy. The Abbe Maury was given the choice 
between a fauteuil and a bishopric, neither of which he 
merited ; to the bishopric, which led to nothing, he preferred 
the fauteuil, which led to everything. 

To return to the subject of theatres, they were better 
attended than they are to-day. The hours for perfor- 
mances were more convenient ; every one had a box, and a 
row of boxes formed almost a salon for the converse of acquaint- 
ances ; finally, each theatre had its fashionable days, when the 
best actors played and the best people came to hear them. At 
the Opera, these were Monday, and especially Friday ; at the 
Fran9ais, Wednesday and Saturday ; and at the Italiens, Monday 
and Thursday. On other days, with the exception of Sunday, 
they were practically empty. 

Apart from the desire to avoid doing each other harm, this 
division of the days of the week amongst the big theatres was 
intended to diminish an inconvenience which, in my childhood, 
was incessantly happening around the Palais Royal and in our 
street. It consisted in what is called emharras. At the hour 
for the theatres emptying, carnages coming from the four points 
of the compass collected in this street, and when it was filled, as 
I have twenty times seen it, from the Place des Victoires to the 
Place Vendome, the tactics of the horse-patrols were useless. 
There you had to remain blocked for an hour, advancing inch 
by inch, sometimes receding, with a cry of " Look out behind ! " 
which was equivalent to a sauve qui pent. Everything then 
was topsy-turvy : women screamed, coachmen swore, and shafts 
broke. It was like the day of a battle. 



AMUSEMENTS 21 

New plays were rare. The Opera produced only Gluck or 
Piccini ; the Fran9ais, Corneille, Racine, Crebillon, MoHere, 
Regnard, and Destouches ; the Italiens, Sedaine, Favard, Mar- 
soUier, and Gherardi adaptations, which lacked common sense 
but which Carlin knew how to make charming. 

As to tlie popular theatres, there were two : Audinot de 
TAmbigu-Comique and Nicolet, otherwise known as " les grands 
danseurs."" They were side by side on the boulevard called the 
Beau Boulevard, then the Palais Royal of the Rues Saint- 
Martin and Saint-Denis. Cafes, shows, and other curiosities 
abounded there, forming a sort of very amusing fair. Only on 
Thursdays did fashionable people appear there en gala. Two 
rows of berlins — calashes would have been too plebeian and 
broughams were hardly yet to be seen — gravely made the tour 
at walking pace, each row displaying two wings of farthingales 
projecting from the carriage doors, whilst the men promenaded 
in the middle. These little theatres, much harmed by the big 
ones, but which good society sometimes deserted, had two 
privileges : one, that of keeping open a week longer than the 
others during the Easter holidays ; and the second, that of 
being allowed to go on tour to the various Parisian fairs. 

Other places of pleasure frequented by people of quality were 
Torre's, the Colysee, the balls, Longchamp, and the sacred 
concerts. 

Torre, the king of illuminators, had a little public garden 
near the Beau Boulevard, where twice a week he showed 
marvellous taste in varying his decoration of coloured lanterns. 

The Colysee was fine, but too large and too far away. It 
had been placed at the Rond-point des Champs-Elysees, on 
that Neuilly road which, ^only just then begun, terminated at a 
little wood called the Etoile, between Paris and the Porte 
Maillot.^ , 

Longchamp was still further off. The whole fashionable 
world of Paris met there in Lent, at a cold and rigorous time of 
the year ; but people went to shine, not to amuse themselves. 
Vanity leads to greater extremes than pleasure. I have seen 

1 The present barrier was named after this wood, which was pierced en 
itoile. See the Souvenirs of Mme. Vig^e Le Brun, vol. i. p. 24, in reference to 
the Colys^a,— A, C, 



22 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Longchamp at the height of its splendour. Two rows of 
carriages set out from the front of the Place Louis XV., whilst 
two others descended the Avenue from the Bois de Boulogne. 
In the middle of the immense Avenue de Neuilly were men on 
horseback. The crowd filled the sidewalks. Not a cab was 
to be seen. A glass coach would have been hissed, and some 
disdain was shown in the case of carriages with four horses, 
for these revealed either the lower magistracy or the middle 
financial class, by reason of their vanity in having more than 
two and the impossibility of having six. The height of fashion 
was, in fact, to have two horses or six, and only on the Wed- 
nesday and the Friday. Everything, too, had to be new, if 
you wished to be looked at : horses, harness, carriages, liveries, 
and dresses. Filles, especially, had the privilege of appearing 
on each of the three days with new turnouts, because they had 
neither armorial bearings nor old liveries to preserve. I have 
seen Adeline, of the Italiens, the most celebrated coquine of 
Paris and the mistress of Farmer-General Vemeranges, appear 
three times at Longchamp with three carriages and three 
different teams of six horses, in addition to three new liveries. 

Balls had become a sort of social obligation. Those who had 
children or grandchildren owed society a ball. Few people dis- 
pensed with them, and, if only you were a little known, you often 
had three or four invitations for the same day. It is impossible to 
judge of these balls from those of to-day ; they were as different 
as night and day. Everything there was gay and enchanting : 
the illumination and decoration of the rooms ; the women's 
dresses, beflowered and befeathered ; the costumes of the men, 
all silk and embroidery ; the richly furnished buffets ; and the 
choiceness of the suppers, which were repeated three or four 
times during the night. These great balls acquired a special 
importance by being given at the commencement of Lent. 
This was the height of fashion. I saw the disappearance of 
the minuet, which in my childhood still held the first rank. 
The waltz had not yet been introduced. People sometimes 
danced the allemande, the most sprightly dance I have ever 
seen, and which was brought to France by Marie Antoinette. 
Two years before the Revolution a sinister sign foreshadowed 
a change in these balls. Our gala costumes disappeared, and 



THE OPERA BALL 28 

men no longer danced except in black dress-coats. The con- 
sequent mingling of crows and white-robed nymphs led to balls 
being nicknamed " magpie " gatherings. 

A very different ball was that given at the Opera. Its very 
name recalls the cream of the society of Paris at that brilliant 
period. Only the women were masked, and it was this which 
lent it piquancy and charm, for half of those present knew the 
others without being recognised themselves. Women had the 
pleasure of being bold and at the same time respected under 
cover of the mask, whilst the men had that of being given 
a puzzle to solve. 

Well-bred women were in black dominoes and masks, rarely 
white and never coloured. Even their feet, and especially their 
hair, were disguised. They arrived in Sedan chairs but 
returned in a sort of bath -chair. To conceal their identity was 
an important matter, and sometimes with good reason. Many 
a domestic plot and many a Court or State intrigue originated 
there. The crafty Rulhiere was one of the lions of this ball. 
On one occasion he offered his arm to Mme. Le Senechal, then 
in her first youth, and, seeing a vacant seat by the side of the 
Queen, whom he had recognised in spite of her mask, placed 
her there. He then began a conversation in which he passed 
in review all the ladies of the Court, and about whom he told 
such amusing anecdotes that Marie Antoinette, who gained 
much instruction at that soiree^ was ready to die with laughter. 

But I must return to the time when it was recognised that I 
had too hard a mouth for a feminine bridle. To find a tutor, 
or rather a governor for me, for I was much more in need of 
being governed than instructed, was no easy matter. The 
excellent Abbe Seguret, who was then tutor to my cousin De 
Thesigny, was consulted, and decided that the best educator 
would be a citizen of Alais or Anduze. Now, a M. Guiraudet, 
of the former town, formerly tutor to Prince Charles de Rohan- 
Rochefort, had a younger brother of twenty-two or twenty- 
three who, after having taught Prince Jules, the nephew and 
coadjutor of the famous Cardinal de Rohan, was running about 
the streets of Paris. This Alaisian abhe himself needed a 
tutor ; yet he became mine. The good Abbe Seguret, who 
was Canon of Alais, allowed himself to be guided in his choice 



24 BARON DE FRENILLY 

by compatriotism ; my mother had faith in him ; and as my 
own opinion was favourable M. Guiraudet became my mentor- 
comrade for six years of my life. 

He was third son of a poor Alais doctor ; was short-statured, 
thin and singularly ugly ; had little education, but much wit 
and originality. Complete ignorance of the world, combined 
with excessive pride, made him the most sensitive person one 
can imagine. There were two things which he could not bear : 
one, the fact that he was a priest ; the other, that he was a 
tutor. The latter position appeared to him to be so humiliating 
that he concealed his address, and, some time afterwards, went 
as far as changing his name to that of Brejole. 

Such was the man who was my tutor for six years, but I 
must confess that I learnt nothing from him. Most of that 
time was spent in travel, or in prolonged visits to the pro- 
vinces, where he allowed me almost complete liberty. 

My studious disposition pleased my mother, who did not 
wish me to vegetate in the lazy opulence of a high financial 
post. Knowing D'Alembert and Marmontel, she introduced me 
to them, and so, accompanied by my a56e, I attended, two or 
three evenings a week, the private gatherings which D'Alembert, 
then permanent secretary to the Academy, held in his small 
apartment in the Louvre. 

Among the habihies of these gatherings I dimly recollect the 
following : 

The Comte de Tressan was an aged, crafty courtier and a 
rake to boot. From the light grace of the Bibliotheque Bleue 
he had fallen to a heavy and diffuse translation of Ariosto, 
which had been imposed upon him by the Academy, and which, 
I believe, he produced in six weeks. This is easily understood 
when we read it. 

The Marquis de Condorcet was a tall, faded beau, ungraceful 
and sententious. He was a doctrinaire^ academical in every- 
thing, and, besides being spiteful, jealous, and ambitious, was 
excessively proud. He had been sowing for twenty years past 
what he was to reap ten years later. When he raised the 
mask and entered that career which led his king to the scaffold 
and himself to suicide there was a general hue and cry among 
his friends, who closed their doors to him. Among them was 



D'ALEMBERT 25 

the Duchesse d'Anville, whom one cannot suspect of being 
lacking in philosophy.^ Her servants removed a bust of Con- 
dorcet which she had in her drawing-room and solemnly buried 
it in a heap of manure. 

Whilst Condorcet supremely displeased me, the Abbe Maury 
greatly amused me. He was aiming at the Academy. He 
had neither M, de Tressan's parsimony nor Condorcefs arro- 
gance, but an exuberance of health, muscular strength and 
power of lung as tremendous as that which he has since dis- 
played at the Constituent Assembly, and at the same time 
a manner of speaking that, though heavy, was rapid, bold, and 
original, in addition to it being sustained by a pronounced 
accent that placed him a little above the ordinary. 

Near him was sometimes the Abbe Delille, his very opposite : 
slim, sickly, as light as a feather, all nerves and imagination. 
The colossal Maury easily cast him into the shade. Many 
years afterwards I met these two men again at M. Suard's, 
after they had returned from voluntary exile with the 
emigres^ and I found them exactly the same. The Abbe 
Maury talked incessantly ; the Abbe Delille did not open his 
mouth. 

As to D'Alembert, who was already in the grip of the com- 
plaint which eventually killed him, his small body was buried 
in a large armchair, just as his keen eyes were buried in his 
peruked head. He spoke only in sallies of wit and humour, on 
subjects suggested by others ; rarely did he furnish matter for 
conversation. The only thing I clearly recollect as coming 
from him was an inscription which he proposed for Fenelon's 
tomb : " Passer-by, efface not this name with thy tears, so 
that I in turn may weep." Never was anything so ridiculously 
academic. 

MarmontePs circle was of quite a different character ; it 
practically represented the reign of the dullest bourgeoisie. 
Marmontel no longer took the trouble to shine. He was a 
retired trifler who, having become old and heavy, lived on an 
income of thirty thousand livres, amassed by little moral tales, 
little comic operas, and little articles written for the Mercure. 
In other respects, he was an excellent literary man with 
I The Duchess d'Anville (De la Kochefoucauld). — A. C, 



26 BARON DE FRENILLY 

delicacy of taste. His Memoires prove it and his Dictionnaire 
de Mterature is, in my opinion, infinitely preferable to the 
famous Cours of La Harpe. Finally, as his conduct during 
the Revolution showed, he was a virtuous, honourable 
man. 

His friend, the Abbe Morellet, was a very different sort of 
man. A beneficed clergyman, an unbelieving priest pensioned 
by the Church in order to destroy it, a philosopher whom 
Voltaire called the Abbe Mords-les (Auglice : " Bite them "), 
and a past-master at Baron d''Holbach''s dinner, he possessed a 
heavy but biting, dry yet pointed wit, a wide knowledge of 
the classics, and an unerring taste. I saw a good deal of him 
and particularly during his last years, when he expiated the 
wrongs, I might even say the scandal, of the early part of his 
career by a generous employment of his talents. When he 
died he bequeathed his niece, the good and amiable Mile. Belz, 
a big room full of manuscripts, sincerely thinking that he was 
leaving her a dowry. But I do not believe she made a 
shilling out of them. 

About the time of which I am writing, Paris was in a sort 
of convulsion. Notwithstanding the police, the Archbishop of 
Paris and the King, Le Mariage de Figaro had forced the doors 
of the Comedie-Fran^aise. Everybody proclaimed the work 
scandalous, dangerous and revolutionary. It was " the thing " 
to do. Everybody went to see the play. That also was 
fashionable. I recollect a meeting of the Academy at which 
M. Bailly — I believe it was he — made an eloquent onslaught 
on the piece. Every one applauded but looked at his watch, 
for it was getting time to go to the theatre. Beaumarchais 
was put in Saint-Lazare, which was a ridiculous thing to do, 
and people applauded. On coming out, the Prince de Conti 
went to see him, which was still more ridiculous, whereupon 
there was again applause. Paris was a sick child ; its manners 
were of the past, its passions of the present. The symptoms 
were clear ; the crisis was drawing near ; Beaumarchais had a 
following. 

Public opinion was changing its principles and direction. 
Every Frenchman then took a keen interest in public affairs. 
The artisan and the merchant, the middle-class citizen and the 



FAMOUS NEWSMONGERS 27 

noble lord inquired and thought about events, wars, and alliances. 
But their agitation was not that which is centred around public 
matters with the object of applying it to private ones ; it was 
the very opposite.^ Nobody troubled himself about that 
domestic happiness which had been deeply rooted for the past 
two centuries. France and her exterior vicissitudes alone were of 
interest. Consequently, it was then the age of newsmongers. 
One coterie wished to be better informed than another, and I 
can remember a certain Abbe Le Monnier, who owed his pre- 
sence at my grandmother"'s august Saturday gatherings simply 
to his reputation for being an irrefutable dealer in news. Who 
has not known or at least seen the illustrious M. Metra ? I 
can still see him sitting each morning under the famous Cracow 
tree in the Tuileries, with his three-cornered hat edged with 
gold, his scarlet frock-coat frogged with gold, and his still more 
scarlet triple nose, festooned with eight to ten subordinate 
noses which perfectly represented a large truffle of the finest red.^ 
A respectful crowd surrounded him, religiously waiting to hear 
his communications. I must not omit, either, to mention the 
celebrated Abbe " Trente mille hommes," who made our generals, 
the Emperor, the Stadtholder and all the Powers of Europe 
march as he wished — always at the head of 30,000 men. I 
was fifteen years of age when the American War was concluded. 
There was then still a great national spirit in France. After 
hearing witnesses relate the enthusiasm provoked by the Battle 
of Fontenoy and the sorrow inspired by Louis XV.'s illness, 
I myself witnessed the stupor caused by the defeat of tlie Comte 
de Grasse. The sadness was universal and led spontaneously 
to a multitude of gifts and offerings, not only from the pro- 
vinces and towns, but from the lowliest of citizens. This 
touching spectacle moved me to tears. What a superb germ 
the Revolution killed for ever ! That was because Paris fol- 
lowed only its own impulses, and since the days of Louis XIV. 
had received none from the Court. Virtue, piety and goodness 

1 With reference to this patriotic feeling see a passage in Norvins' Memorial 
(1896-1897), vol. i. pp. 19-20.— A. C. 

2 See ihe Souvenirs et portraits of the Due de Levis, p. 183, and Norvins' 
Memorial, vol. i. p. 183. But Metra sat in the Luxembourg, not in the 
Tuileries. — A. C. 



28 BARON DE FRENILLY 

were doubtless on the throne, but strength, judgment, tact and 
even taste were absent. Under what circumstances \vas the 
signing of peace known in Paris ? News was hourly expected. 
Every one at Versailles had a courier and saddled horses ready. 
Yet nothing transpired. Information came at the petit coiicher. 
Now, there was a certain old and dirty song which had been 
sung in the streets at the time of the 1735 peace, and which 
many people still knew by heart. It consisted of the following 
dialogue between Louis XV. and the Emperor : 

Louis dit k I'Empereur : 
Je t'ai fait ch. . . de peur, 
Tes chausees ne sont pas nettes, 

Turlurette, 

Turlurette, 
Lantantui'lurette. 

L'Bmpereur dit ^ Louis : 

Ne reviens plus dans mon pays, 

Baise mon c . . . , la paix est faite, 

Turlurette, 

Turlurette, 
Lantanturlurette I . . . 

Louis XVI., who was in his nightshirt and about to get into 
bed, began to hum the last verse. Thus was peace made 
known. The fashionable men of Versailles called this good 
and worthy king " the big pig," and he richly merited the 
nickname for his manners. 

This 1781 peace brought back to us a number of giddy- 
brained fellows of all ages, infatuated with the principles of 
Penn and Franklin. The most infatuated and pedantic, the 
Marquis de Lafayette, became the favourite of the Covurt, 
which had more appreciation for those who despised it 
than for those who flattered it. The Due de Choiseul was 
the last who correctly valued this twenty-year-old-reformer. 
All the ladies of his salon having begged him to listen for a 
moment to the marvellous Lafayette, he did so for a quarter 
of an hour, at the end of which time he turned to his ladies 
with a " Why, he's Gilles Cesar." ' 

1 Choiseul's nickname [Gille is French for clown) was, according to La 
Marck, fairly appropriate, for there was something foolish in Lafayette's face 



i 



AT ROUSSEAU'S GRAVE 29 

I now come to the relation of my travels. First of all I went 
to Ha\Te to see the sea, then to Honfleur, Dieppe, Abbeville, 
Beauvais, and Chantilly. In the following year I saw Ermenon- 
ville, Soissons, Rheims, Laon, and the Saint-Gobain glass 
manufactory. 

Ermenonville, Rousseau's last place of habitation, greatly 
impressed me on account of its Gothic Chateau, its extensive 
English garden and its magnificent avenue of ancient beeches. 
But I was displeased by a profusion of inscriptions in English, 
Italian and Latin — never in French — which at every tree and 
bench spoke to you of repose, virtue, meditation and sensibility. 
As to the tomb of the Man of Nature, I much admired the 
poplars ; the monument itself made little impression upon me. 
It made still less, I imagined, on a person whom we met on the 
island, and who said, fairly loudly : " I would willingly buy 
tliose poplars for Stockholm, provided they didn't throw in the 
tomb with them." It was Gustave III., King of Sweden. Two 
or three days afterwards, at Rheims, I saw him again. He was 
on foot, in travelling dress, and accompanied by two or three 
members of his suite, and, in spite of the fact that he was 
incognito, the authorities, to do him honour, were having him 
escorted by horse-police. As he walked between two of them 
the rabble followed, shouting : " Hallo ! here's some one they're 
going to flog and brand ! " 

This journey to Rheims was but a preparatory one, for, two 
months later, the Abbe and I took up our residence in the 
town. I was then sixteen ; in some ways much in advance but 
in others far behind my age. My mother wished me to study 
law, not in Paris, but in the more serious and modest atmo- 
sphere of Rheims, and under the supervision of an old friend, 
Mgr. Bishop de Pouilly. She gave careful instructions that I 
was to see only the best society in the town and then only in 
moderation. This moderation was such that, with the excep- 
tion of Mgr. de Pouilly, I saw no one, and, although I lived at 
Rheims for three years, I cannot recall the name of a single 
acquaintance. 

and movements. Mirabeau was much amused by them and he gave La- 
fayette this name in his Correspondance with La Marck, Sometimes, also, 
he calls him " Gilles le Grand " or " General Jacquot." — A. C. 



30 BARON DE FRENILLY 

My books were my only society. They were of two classes. 
One class formed my official library : Domat, Ferrieres, Potier, 
the Institutes of Justinian, and others — all honourably displayed 
on my desk ; the other constituted my private library : novels 
hired from a loueur de livres, and which were in my drawers. I 
remember the difficulty I had with " Pamela,"" which, hidden 
behind my desk, occupied by Domat, had to return to its 
hiding-place whenever I heard an approaching step at the door. 
Thus did I read Voltaire, who aroused in me greater indigna- 
tion than enthusiasm. His insolence with respect to Racine, 
and his perfidy towards Corneille, whom I would willingly have 
read on my knees, made him an object of special and instinctive 
animadversion. 

What was my religion at this period ? I should have great 
difficulty now in saying. Perhaps I should have had no less 
then, with this difference, that whereas I now require explana- 
tions, I had then no need of them. I was a Catholic because 
I was born a Catholic — without examination or doubt, and as 
one would be glad to be always. I carried out my religious 
duties faithfully, unreluctantly and even joyfully. As to pos- 
sessing a rational conviction, it had never been either offered or 
asked for, and so I did not think about it. 

My law studies passed off fairly well : I sustained my theses 
and successfully passed my examinations without learning any- 
thing by heart — then, I believe, a very rare thing. 

This work, however, occupied only part of my time, and 
ordinarily our travels began as soon as my name was entered 
for the terms. 

The first year — I believe in 1785 — we made a tour in 
Germany. We saw Mayence, Coblentz, Cologne, Diisseldorf, 
and Crevelt, returning by Guelderland and Liege. All that I 
remember of this journey were the German roads and the 
difficulty the post-chaise had in travelling twelve leagues a day 
through the seas of sand. The year following we went to 
Flanders, Holland, and England. 

Amidst the forest of masts which covered the sea and made 
the port of Amsterdam into a second town, amidst the innu- 
merable mills of Schardam, and amidst the painted trees and 
marble houses of Broek, there reappear before me the servants 



DEPARTURE FOR ENGLAND 31 

of the great banker Hope, dressed in their gold-gallooned 
livery and drawn up in a row along a white marble corridor, to 
receive, as we went out, the gold ducat which you paid for your 
dinner. Poor economical Brejole acquitted the debt with 
inexpressible anguish of heart. It must be admitted that you 
are treated more politely in Italy, where the " family '' at least 
allows you to digest your dinner, and only comes to ask for 
payment on the following day. 

I also saw the Theatre du College. The millionaires of 
Amsterdam, who prided themselves on being frenchified, who 
spoke only French, and who lived entirely a la fran^aise, had 
founded, under the name of " College," a pretty little theatre 
where, at great expense, they employed the best actors and 
actresses of France. I found there my old acquaintance of the 
Comedie-Fran9aise, the elder Mile. Sainval, who by fits and 
starts was either detestable or sublime, and I saw there for the 
first time the celebrated Aufresne, of whom Brizard, famous 
though he was, was but a poor, weak copy.^ 

On leaving Holland, we crossed the Moordyk, passed through 
Antwerp, Ghent, and Bruges, reached Ostend, and the next 
day were on the shores of Albion. We had a sea passage of 
twenty-five leagues, amidst a small tempest and sea-sickness. I 
imagined we were almost at New York, but found the port was 
really Dover. On the following day we saw the altar on which 
Thomas a Becket perished, and the day afterwards I was 
deafened and bewildered by the noise and murmur of London, 
as has happened every time I have been there. Brejole, who 
never lost sight of his principal object — economy — found sordid 
lodgings in a dark lane near Cheapside, the people's quarter, at 
the house of an old French notary, who, I believe, boarded us. 
We knew not a soul in London, where, however, my financial 
and social position wovdd have allowed us to see something else 
than buildings and an old notary. But Brejole was ill at 
ease in good society ; in order to shine he had to be on his own 
level, and as he always sought it, it was always beneath mine. 

1 Aufresne (1729-1806) acted chiefly abroad. Frederick II. praised his acting 
as " noble, simple, and true " ; whilst Goethe, vho saw him at Strasburg, found 
that he possessed power of thought, strength and composure without frigidity. 
— A. C. 



32 BARON DE FRENILLY 

The honour of having us as boarders almost cost the old 
French notary his life. A grand review and artillery practice 
had been announced to take place at Woolwich, so he proposed 
to take us. We set off in a vehicle with seats for twenty, and 
with the intention of returning by the Thames. Our worthy 
companion was as big as a tun, and in order to shine and do 
honour to his guests had tricked himself out in all his finery : 
a huge wig, a maroon velvet coat, a big watch-chain, rings on 
his fingers, and a gold snuff-box. The review and the firing 
passed off very well indeed, but when we reached the Thames 
to return home there was a crowd for the boats — and you 
know what a crowd is in England ! You know also what 
those double-pointed cockle-shells on the Thames are, and 
which capsize like an Indian pirogue if ten pounds of ballast 
is badly placed. Elbowing and fighting his way through the 
people, the fat notary finally reached one of these boats, got 
into it, stumbled, and overturned men and boat into the river. 
The crowd pulled him out, gathered around him, looked for 
his wig, took off his coat, dried him and rubbed him. I 
admired the British nation, for never had I seen so many 
obliging folk. In brief, when our companion came to his 
senses he found himself alone with Brejole and I, in his shirt- 
sleeves, on the river bank, without either wig, watch, rings, 
buckles, or snuff-box. 

Home-sickness having crept over me, and the Abbe's purse 
being nearly empty, we made our way back to Dover and 
Calais, and thence to Paris before returning to Rheims ; for it 
was necessary to show my mother, sister, grandmother, and the 
whole family the young Telemachus and the wise Mentor of 
twenty-eight who had just braved so many dangers and explored 
so large a part of the globe. 

The following year witnessed a revolution in my society 
circle at Rheims. Up to then it had been composed of a 
single individual — myself; but in future there were to be two 
of us. My mother had an old acquaintance in the town named 
Mme. d'Orcy, the wife of a Receiver-General, who, deeply occu- 
pied with natural history, had handed over to her the education 
of their only son, a boy of my own age. He was chosen as a 
companion for me, and as he was a sterling good fellow we 



VISIT TO THE OPERA 33 

quickly became friends. Our studies were the same, as our 
careers looked as though they were to be : he Receiver-General 
in succession to his father, I Administrator-General in succession 
to M. de Saint-Waast. But my mother, without openly 
running counter to the ideas of an uncle whose fortune she was 
to inherit, had at bottom different plans in view for me. All 
her letters directed me towards the magistrature. The cus- 
tomary text of all her lessons was the example of Herault do 
Sechelles, whom she held up as a model for her son and intended 
as a husband for her daughter. I shared my mother's ideas. 
I felt a supreme disdain for finance, and dreamed of nothing 
but a gown, an advocate's cap, and the defence of widows and 
orphans. 

With the spring of 1787 we were to conclude our terms. 
The rest of the year was intended to be devoted to a journey 
in Switzerland. We came back to Paris in May to prepare 
for it. I was in my nineteenth year, but hardly more than 
eighteen. My illusions and naivete would have made the least 
inexperienced college graduate of to-day blush with shame, I 
had come from Rheims at full speed and without knowing how 
to ride. I was tired out and yet charmed, for it was the day 
when my grandmother had a box at the Opera, and she was 
awaiting me there. I embraced my mother and sister, dressed, 
and, without losing time over dinner, hastened away. Now, 
the second performance of Tarare was being given, and I was 
unacquainted with the new theatre. I was delighted, and ^vith 
reason. Few people still recollect how cool, cheerful, and 
brilliant it was. Add to that five rows of magnificently dressed 
women, Salieri's music, the splendour of the spectacle, and then 
place in their midst a youth who had hardly touched with his 
lips the cup of pleasure — " an innocent heart moulded by the 
universities." 

At the same time two comic operas were in vogue at the 
Italiens, which had just left its smoky Jeu de Paume for the 
sumptuous green and gold house built in Choiseul's garden. 
These were Nina and Richard Cocur de Lion — one the triumph 
of Clairval, the other that of Mme. Dugazon. To complete 
the fortune of this theatre, people were applauding the debut 
of the little Renauds, the elder of whom was a nightingale, 

c 



34 BARON DE FRENILLY 

and the younger a graceful little maiden who, overflowing with 
wit and prettiness, was beginning seriously to turn ray head, 
and who would perhaps have considerably advanced my educa- 
tion had not the post-horses very appropriately arrived to carry 
me away. 



CHAPTER III 

1787 

Travels in Switzerland — Motiers-Travers — The Principality of 
NeucMtel — M. de Garville — Saint-Gallen — Eorschach— Altstetten — 
Grais — Zurich — Lavater — Gessner — Glaris — Linththal — Ascent of the 
Todi — Wesen — Coire — Bergiin — The Engadine — St. Maurice — The 
Bernina Pass — Lago Bianco and Lago Nero — Tirano — Sondrio — 
The Lake of Como — Domaso and Gravedona — Chiavenna — Campo- 
dolcino — Reichenau — Andermatt — Realp — Obergestelen —The Grismel 
— The Keuse — Ponte del Diavolo — Altorf — The Rigi — Zug — Lucerne 
— Meiringen — Lauterbrunnen — Dnterseen — The Valais — Chamonix — 
Vevey — Disagreement with Br6jole — Geneva — Coppet and Ferney — 
The Dauphine — Return to Paris. 

In three days D''Orcy, Brejole and I reached Besan^on. 

Two days later we explored, sometimes on our hands and 
knees, sometimes on our stomachs, a league of the Grotto of 
Motiers-Travers. It was not worth the candles we burnt, but 
we were possessed with a mania for seeing everything, and had 
brought with us complete miners'" outfits for such occasions. 

Another article of clothing which was still more necessary in 
Switzerland was that in waxed taffetas, which hermetically 
covered the body, head and arms included. 

There is another point to mention in regard to our travelling 
impedimenta. I have already said that M. d'Orcy had a mag- 
nificent collection of natural history specimens. Its finest part 
was that devoted to entomology. We took an interest, there- 
fore, in this branch of science, for D'Orcy followed his father's 
example, and I followed D'Orcy's. This study of insects led us 
to that of flowers. I was wild over botany, so we took with 
us " Linnaeus," " Toumefort," and other works. Nor was this 
all ; we were exceedingly fond of mineralogy, consequently 

hammers, chisels, chemicals, and other things necessary for 

35 



36 BARON DE FRENILLY 

interrogating the rocks, crjrpts and mines found on our route 
had to be included with our other scientific apparatus. 

From Motiers-Travers we journeyed to Neuchatel, whence we 
made a tour of the little Principality, which then appeared to 
me to be an enchanted country. I saw it again two years ago, 
but found it wild and wearisome. 

After admiring the Saut du Doubs, which is much finer and 
much less known than that of the Rhine, and the He de Saint- 
Pierre, formerly xuhabited by that Rousseau who filled the 
world, but could nowhere find a resting-place, we went to see, 
near Morat, D"'Orcy''s uncle, M. de Garville, who was then build- 
ing, not far from the lake, the agreeable Chateau de Greng. 
M. de Garville, who was well known in Paris,^ was a tall, 
handsome man, intelligent, capable and rich, but hard, egoistical 
and ambitious. Quite near the chateau was the first ossuary of 
the Burgundians : a mass of bones almost reduced to powder, 
contained in a huge square stone basin, above which they rose 
in the form of a pyramid, which was covered by a chapel roof. 
This monument to the defeat of Charles the Bold has been 
destroyed and replaced by a very fine obelisk with inscriptions. 
But the ossuary was a fact, whilst the column is but a souvenir. 

From Greng we went to Berne, and via Soleure, to Bale. 
There we stopped at the famous Hotel des Trois Rois, on the 
Rhine, where at one and the same time you can see Switzerland, 
Swabia and France. Leaving Bale we passed through the 
four forest towns of the Black Forest to Schaffhausen, and 
thence to the Fall of Laufen. Other people would have hired 
a carriage and a guide, but Brejole would have had to disburse 
six francs, so we left on foot, alone, directing ourselves by the 
noise of the cataract. From Schaffhausen we reached Con- 
stance, where we visited the two charming lies de Mainau and 
Reich enau. On the first, a Teutonic commander with whom we 
lodged had employed much art and money in hiding, by means 
of a very big bower, the importunate view of the lake and the 
Appenzell Alps. On the second we were shown the fine treasure 
of the Benedictines, a decayed tooth of the Emperor Charles 
the Fat, his slippers, and an emerald given by Charlemagne. 

On leaving Constance our way led continually through 
1 See the first two volumes of Norvins' Memorial. — A. C. 



AT APPENZELL 87 

orchards to Saint-Gallen, the ancient and celebrated abbey of 
which was surrounded by a Protestant town, surrounded, in 
turn, by the monks'" CathoHc vassals. To-day there are neither 
monks nor vassals, but a canton which, like its neighbour Appen- 
zell, lives by trading in muslins. The Appenzell Alps, which we 
had seen drawing nearer for the past three days, irresistibly 
tempted us to leave the plains, so, leaving our carriage at Saint- 
Gall, we set off on three hacks, preceded or rather followed by 
a guide, for he was fat, lazy, and a native of Lorraine, to visit 
the navy of the Lord and Abbe of Rorschach, at the eastern 
end of Lake Constance. It consisted, I believe, of five boats, 
now replaced by a steamer. We slept at the foot of 
Appenzell, at the bottom of the superb valley of Rhinthal. 
From Alstetten we climbed for two or three hours along 
a winding ravine and at last reached Appenzell, a green 
little coimtry covered with flowers. Whilst Brejole and the 
guide drank milk in one of its hospitable huts, D''Orcy 
and I had a fine hunt after insects. We dined at Gais and 
slept in a fairly good house there. I have not yet forgotten 
my awakening at five o'clock in the morning. On opening our 
little window I found that we were situated in the middle of 
a gently sloping meadow. Every weed had a flower and every 
flower a drop of dew which sparkled in the sunlight. To right 
and left were two forests of tall pines and enormous beeches, 
which, as the rays of the rising sun streamed through them, 
cast their shadows. Deep silence reigned, and from everything 
arose a delicious coolness and an exquisite perfume. 

That day we climbed the Sentis, the highest mountain of the 
Canton of Appenzell. 

Returning to Saint-Gallen for our carriage, we slept the 
next day at Zurich, which it is impossible to mention without 
speaking of Lavater and Gessner. Pastor Lavater was a tall 
and rather thin man, with a long face full of sweetness and 
serenity, a large forehead, black, curly hair, a large and slightly 
arched nose, small but sparkling eyes, a tight-shut mouth and 
thin lips. All his portraits resemble him. His person, voice 
and conversation breathed simplicity, candour, and truth. 
Moreover, he believed in his fables. I say fables, not because 
there is not some truth in his system, but because a thousand 



38 BARON DE FRENILLY 

truths which are theoretically true become errors when applied 
by that instrument of error, the hand of man. Like many 
others, Lavater thought that there were secret relations between 
physical and immaterial forms, and that observation of the one 
might throw light on the mystery of the others. But he alone 
thought that visiting cards or addresses on envelopes, of which 
his cupboards were full, revealed the private character of all 
the visitors and writers of Europe ; he alone believed that a 
microscope could reveal the character of a mite, or that the 
physiognomy of a swallow, a mouse or a carp, could reveal 
theirs. He had a very fine collection of pictures of birds, fish, 
quadrupeds, reptiles and insects, whose soul, intelligence and 
inclinations he knew thoroughly. If this worthy man had 
stuck to the truth his name would never have been mentioned. 

Gessner''s face was the antipodes of that of Lavater. He 
had a large round head slightly bald, without any striking 
feature except the eyes, which were small and fiery but 
starting from his head, and the mouth which, instead of having 
narrow, compressed lips, had beautiful rosy lips slightly open. 
This gave him a general expression of gaiety, vivacity and good 
nature. Nothing revealed the poet, and as regards this his 
face told the truth. For he owed his reputation merely to the 
insipid infatuation people had in Germany, and during some 
time in France, for the sentimental silliness which the dull and 
frivolous Florian had copied from the heavy and fastidious 
Racan. I saw Gessner at his home, a small country house 
three leagues from Zurich, near the lake, in the midst of the 
woods, and on the banks of the torrent of the Seil, which was 
crossed by means of a plank. He was seated near a window 
painting his idylls, surrounded by his family. His straight, 
fresh-looking daughters — his tall, strong sons — his plump, 
curly-headed little ones — the embroidery frames, books, 
pencils, and flowers scattered around also formed an idyll, an 
idyll by Gessner and doubtless his best. I must, however, do 
him the justice of saying that he was quite astonished at being 
a great man. 

I shall hastily pass over the baths of Baden, Rapperswyl and 
its bridge of shaky, nailless planks, and Einsiedeln with its 
famous Abbey of Notre Dame des Ermites. Redescending to 



A STORM ON THE TODI 39 

the shores of the Lake of Zurich, we hired at Lachen a small 
calash and two small horses to take us to Glaris. It was a 
Sunday at the end of June, and the weather was superb. The 
beautiful valley of Glaris, with its green meadows, tall trees, 
fertile mountains and pretty villages, was magnificent. But if 
you opened your eyes it was necessary to hold your nose, since 
it was the season for making the celebrated schabzieger cheese. 
Had millions of Spanish flies been let loose over the country 
their odom- would not have equalled the stench of that 
detestable green stuff. From the village of Linththal, which 
is at the end of the valley, we set out on foot at four o''clock 
in the morning, accompanied by a sturdy fellow of Glaris, to 
see the glaciers of the Todi. We at once took a goafs path, 
crossed the Pantenbriicke, and entered a desolate solitude with 
an almost perpendicular cliff formed of rocks which had rolled 
down the mountains. Whilst silently moralising over the 
scene, we arrived at a chalet, where we refreshed ourselves with 
milk, sere and cheese. Then, in the midst of a thick fog 
which had just covered the sides of the mountain, we began 
the ascent of the Todi. Traversing dense clouds, with the 
temperature low and the wind rising, we climbed through a 
forest of enormous pines, passing upwards from stump to 
stump. This exercise lasted an hour, at the end of which 
time we gradually began to see daylight, then the sun, then a 
blue sky, and, in front of us, the accumulated ice of the Todi 
rising like crystal rocks between two screens of pines. Such 
was the sky and the earth above and around us. But below 
we saw only a sea of clouds. The winds, which we had left in 
the middle region of the atmosphere, furiously drove these 
clouds along, heaped them up again, and discharged one 
against the other with a crash. This was thunder ; the storm 
had broken ; it was at our very feet ! Fortunately the spec- 
tacle did not last long, for, sublime though it was, we should 
have had to remain without food on the mountain had it lasted. 
Three hours later we had recrossed the beautiful valley of 
Glaris and were dining in an inn at the little town of Wesen, 
facing that lovely Lake of Walenstadt which Daguerre, twenty- 
live years later, transported near the Fauboiirg du Temple. 
1 The Diorama invented by Daguerre and Bouton. — A. C. 



40 BARON DE FRENILLY 

A boat awaited us, and its three hours' voyage brought us to 
Sargans to sleep. We were in the Grisons. 

We had decided to make a tour of this canton, so, after 
reaching Coire, we set off early in the morning with three 
horses and a pedestrian guide. Almost immediately we began 
to ascend, and when evening came we were still ascending, to 
arrive in pitch darkness at the large village of Bergiin. On 
the following day we resumed our ascent, and so much, indeed, 
did we ascend, that by noon we were in the midst of snow on 
the shores of the little Lake of Weissenstein, where epicurean 
travellers halt six times a week to catch trout, which they 
fry themselves for their luncheon. There our ascent ended. 
Towards the other end of the lake was a descent strewn with 
rocks and covered with large pine woods, and in two hours we 
were entering the beautiful plains of the Engadine. 

We slept at the baths of St. Maurice. On the following 
morning we set off for the Valtellina, not by way of Chiavenna, 
the only practical road and therefore unworthy of us, but by 
the Bernina. At the snowclad summit we skirted Lago 
Bianco and Lago Nero. I was there seized with the most terrible 
cold I have ever experienced : I was so benumbed and frozen 
that I could neither keep in my saddle nor put a foot to the 
ground. I fell like a stone, as white as the snow with which 
my companions rubbed my hands and face, and I do not know 
how long it was before I was able to resume the journey. In 
the evening we slept at Tirano, our windows open, suffocated 
by the heat and devoured by millions of mosquitoes. But a 
compensation was in store for us next day. M. de Salis- 
Marschlins, Governor of the Valtellina, who jovially ate his 
part of this poor province, received us at his pretty country 
house near Sondrio. He gave us a supper which in no way 
smacked of the poverty of his people. 

Then we skirted the Lake of Como. Sending our guide and 
horses to Chiavenna, we took a boat at Ripa and sailed on 
those beautiful waters as far as Domaso and Gravedona. We 
had decided to return from Ripa to Chiavenna on foot and by 
moonlight, but the moon failed us and, before we had hardly 
stepped out of our boat, we received one of those storms which, 
in the Alps, gather and burst within a quarter of an hour. 



A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE 41 

The night was exceedingly dark, the rain fell in torrents, we 
were without either guide or cloaks, and not a house was in 
sight. It was with great delight that we found one of those 
huts which are used by harvesters as a refuge. Not until 
seven o'clock in the morning, in a common eating-house at 
Chiavenna, did we break our fast. 

Nor were our adventures over. We wished to cross the 
Spliigen. But sun and moon failed us, and we found ourselves 
between Isola and Campodolcino floundering in pitch darkness 
on a ledge only five or six feet broad, above a river which, 
judging by its far-away sound, was at a distance of five to six 
hundred feet. We dismounted. Om' guide then led the 
caravan, feeling the way with his stick and leading the first 
horse by the bridle ; whilst each of us bravely got hold of his 
steed's tail, to save himself should he fall, or to let go should 
the animal fall over the precipice. It was in this manner that 
the procession arrived at eleven o'clock at night at the inn of 
Campodolcino. 

By way of the hideous and lonely summits of the Spliigen, 
we reached the next day the banks of the Upper Rhine. On 
arriving at Reichenau we reascended the valley of the Inter- 
Rhein with fresh horses and a new g;uide which had been sent 
to us from Coire. We had a desire to see the sources of the 
Rhine and the peaks of the St. Gotthard. The next day — 
still ascending — we were sinking in marshy meadows, fording 
twenty streams and jumping a score of others. These were 
the sources of the Lower Rhine. Then, after a four hours' 
ascent, we reached the last peak of the Badus. 

In a very short time, thanks to snowy slopes and our canvas 
trousers, we slid down to the shores of a little lake, whence we 
reached Andermatt, where our horses had been sent to await 
us. Then we crossed Zumdorf and, reascending the course of 
the Reuse, slept at the other end of the valley at the little 
Hospiz of Realp, at the foot of Mount Furka. 

The next day we came to the first village of the Valais, 
Obergestelen ; climbed the Grimsel, the most desolate of the 
Alps, and passed the night at its Hospice. Early in the morn- 
ing we returned by another road to Furka and Realp ; then, 
recrossing the little valley of Urseren, descended to Altorf by 



42 BARON DE FRENILLY 

the Ponte del Diavolo and the terrible valley of Schollenen 
into which the Reuse falls with a terrible noise. 

Wishing to ascend the Rigi, we crossed the pretty village 
of Schwyz, skirted the Lowerzen See, and arrived at Arth, a 
village on the shores of the Lake of Zug, at the foot of the 
mountain. It was late but still light, so we left our carriage 
and set out on foot to climb the grassy, shaded paths of that 
famed Alp. Nightfall found us in a little village filled with 
pilgrims, who had come to worship a saint, and some travellers 
who had come to see the rising of the sun. We supped, but 
we neither slept nor went to bed ; the weather was warm and 
fine, with moonlight, and at four in the morning we were to 
be at the summit of the mountain. At last, an hour before 
sunrise, we arrived there : on a pretty little grassplot, pro- 
tected on the north and west by barriers, for whoever, on 
either of these sides, had stepped over would have tumbled into 
the Lake of Lucerne, five thousand feet below. 

After waiting at Lucerne for three days for our carriage to 
arrive from Zurich, we sent it on to Berne and pushed on still 
further into the Alps. In a boat we skirted Mount Pilatus, 
and in two or three hours found our horses again at the little 
port of Stamsstad, whence we went to the large village of 
Sarnen to sleep. To skirt the pretty Lake of Sarnen and the 
charming little Lake of Lungern, to cross the Briinig and 
redescend into the valley of Oberhasli, to see the Falls of the 
Reichenbach and to return to sleep at the village of Meiringen 
took up the next day. 

From the Grindelwald basin we went to Lauterbrunnen, where 
we slept at the presbytery, at the feet of the Staubbach. A two 
hours'* descent from Lauterbrunnen brought us into the plain 
extending between the Lake of Brienz and the Lake of Thun. 

On leaving Unterseen we skirted the southern shore of the 
Lake of Thun in order to reach the Valais, the entrance only 
of which we had seen at Obergestelen. We then entered, on 
the left, the little valleys which lead to the Gemmi. On 
arriving at the highest point of the Kandersteg Pass a wild 
little basin opened out far under our feet — the baths of Leuk, 
of which 1 clearly recollect only a barn-like roof above a 
wooden tank in which men from Geneva, women from Fribourg 



LOST IN THE WOODS 43 

and monks from Lucerne were paddling pell-mell in bathing 
costumes. 

We next passed through Sion, tlie little capital of the 
Valais, and, on reaching the large village of Martigny, took 
the road which ascends to Mont Blanc. It was barely a 
mule-path. Our horses trotted along very slowly ; Brejole on 
one of them, the guide leading the others, D'Orcy and I on 
foot. D'Orcy feeling confident and I bold, we decided, instead 
of going with Brejole to sleep at the house of the Cure of 
Argentiere, to pass the night without supper under a large 
pine-tree. Now we wandered about in the woods until we 
were lost. Fortunately the weather was fine. At dawn we 
discovered some smoke, coming from a charcoal burner^ and 
the man led us to the Col de Balme. There, for the first 
time, we saw Mont Blanc and the valley of Chamonix. We 
entered the good cure's house at ten o''clock to find Brejole 
philosophically breakfasting on honey and new laid eggs. 

We slept at Chamonix, where there was only one inn. The 
table d'hote supper charmed me : the company was a mixed 
one of men and women from every country in Europe, in- 
cluding a certain M. Bourrit, who surpassed them all.^ He 
was, I believe, Precentor of St. Peter's at Geneva, and had 
published two large books on Switzerland. A man of volcanic 
imagination, he gave us at dessert a description of a sunrise. 
Dr. Paccard had just made the first ascent of Mont Blanc. 
Everybody was excited, I included, and I believe that I 
listened to Bourrit for half an hour without falling asleep. 
But at last fatigue got the better of me, and I know not if he 
succeeded in getting the sun to rise. 

We returned to Martigny by way of the picturesque valley 
of the Tete Noire. Then we passed the Pissevache, crossed 
St. Maurice, and, traversing the Rhone, wandered in the only part 
of Switzerland that is comparable to Interlaken — Vevey. 

As a denouement for our travels I remember only that 
connected with our relations with Brejole. Our bonds had never 
been very close, and for some time past they had been getting 
looser. The poor Abbe, with his twenty-nine years, thought 
that he could govern two young men of nineteen (who were 
1 Bourrit published two works on the Alps (1783 and 1803).— A. C. 



44 BARON DE FRENILLY 

daily gaining experience through travel) as though they were 
children. A few rather angry scenes had already occurred. 
We had ceased to speak to him and to take him with us on 
excursions. One day he came up to us and sharply declared 
that at the next folly he would send us to sleep in prison. 
" D'Orcy," said I, turning white with rage, " what shall we do 
with this wretch ? There is only one of two things : leave him 
or thrash him unmercifully." But D'Orcy intervened, so the 
Abbe was neither left nor thrashed. At Lausanne, however, 
after a supper at which peace by no means reigned, he informed 
us that he was leaving at six o'clock the next morning. The 
spirit of this decree did not trouble us, but we were hurt by its 
letter. Consequently, we took no notice of it and tranquilly 
slept on the next morning. At eight o''clock, when the sun 
streamed through our curtains, we rose and went downstairs, — 
to find that " the gentleman " had left, taking with him carriage 
and luggage ! We were at first rather astonished to find our- 
selves alone in the world, without either effects or money. 
Now, had we been malicious enough to have taken a few days' 
excursion to some place or other, without saying where we were 
going, our companion would have been in a very difficult posi- 
tion as regards our two families. But this idea of vengeance 
did not occur to us. Our only thought was to follow the 
fugitive to the end of the world, or at least to the end of the 
Lake ; for we felt certain that he would be at Geneva. We 
did, as a matter of fact, unearth him there, and rendered him 
the service of relieving his mind of anguish, for he submitted 
to all our reproaches without saying a word. The lesson which 
he thought he would give us was a lesson to him ; and from 
that day forward his manners became more conciliatory. 

But I must bring this eternal journey to an end. I shall 
say hardly anything about either Geneva, Coppet or Ferney. 
Coppet had only its old castle and ancient straight alleys to 
show. M. Necker was Comptroller-General and Mme. de Stael 
at the height of her first success. Ferney appeared to me to be 
a small, fourth-rate country seat. I shall likewise say nothing 
of the Dauphine, where, in order to complete the summer, we 
spent a month catching butterflies, botanising and searching for 
minerals. But can I traverse, without a word, the good town 



RETURN HOME 45 

of Grenoble, all the windows of which were then made of 
paper ? Shall I silently pass over that admirable valley of 
Gresivaudan, the fine fort of Baraux, that eagle's nest called 
Brian9on where the inhabitants play, sup and dance in their 
stables, Gap, Embrun, the Gardette mine, the ancient and 
majestic ruin of Lesdiguieres, and the venerable house of St. 
Bruno which, so near the lightning which was to strike it, still 
reposed amidst silence at the foot of its enormous column of 
bare rocks and within the shadow of its dark forest of ancestral 
pines ? 

Shortly afterwards we returned to Paris by way of Lyons, 
Ma^on, and Dijon. This was, I believe, about the middle of 
October 1787. The separation of the Abbe and I followed 
not much later. My law studies were completed. 



CHAPTER IV 
1787-1791 

Entry into society — Unhealthy pride — Awkwardness and em- 
barrassment — Paris in 1787 — Fashions and dresses — Breteuil — Mme. 
de Saint-Waast's Salon — Some Farmers-General — Delahante, Luzines, 
and Lauzon — Lorry, Bishop of Angers — The Valorys — D'Espremeanil 
— The Queen — The Polignacs — Louis XVI. — Cardinal de Rohan — 
Cagliostro — D'Ormesson — Calonne — Brienne — The Lyc6e — Garat — La 
Harpe — Mme. R^camier — Journey in the Midi — Mme. de Bon — Aries 
— M. de Bellefaye — The Beaucaire Fair — A nocturnal conversation — 
Brejole at Alais — The Cevennes — Mme. de Bon's Flight — Montpellier 
— Narbonne — Toulouse — Bordeaux — Two years' sojourn at Poitiers — 
The National Mind — The Nobility of Poitou — Intendant Nanteuil — 
Bishop Beaupoil de Sainte-Aulaire — The Beauregard Family — The 
Nieuils — The Marsillacs — The Marconnays — Presidents Chassenon 
and Bazoges — The Vigiers— The Moisins — The D'Asnieres — The 
Chasteigners — The D'Aloigny de Rocheforts — The Margarets — Mile. 
d'Esparts and Mile, de Pradel — The Chateau de Monts — The La 
Chastres — The three Turpin ladies — The Montalemberts — The 
Revolution — The Great Fear — Departure for Paris — The Federation of 
July 14, 1790— Talleyrand— Paris and Versailles— The Club- 
Political conversations — Death of M. de Saint-Waast — The Hotel de 
Jonzac — Necker — Bailly — D'Orcy — Norvins — D'Alency — De Lessart 
— Mme. L'Empereur — Mme. Le Sen^chal — Arnault — Florian — Des- 
faucherets — The Parsevals — Flore becomes Mme. de Romeuf — The 
Romeufs — Apparent peace — Journey in Touraine — Beaugency — Bois 
Bounard — Poitiers — The cook Sich^re — Monts and Rigny — Oiron — 
Flight of the King — The Emigration — The district of LuQon — La 
Voulte in the Ard^che — Lafayette at Clermont and Chavaniac. 

Haedly had I entered society^ than I found my contem- 
poraries — companions of my childhood who had never left it — 
established there. They were all in their element, with their 

1 The author was at this time living with his mother, who had left her 
house in the Rue Basse de la Ville I'Eveque and taken a first-floor apartment 
in the Eue Vivienne. — A. C. 

46 



DIFFIDENCE IN SOCIETY 47 

habits, acquaintances and friends. They did not feel that 
they lacked anything. Free, self-satisfied, and with plenty of 
elbow-room, they delivered judgments, dogmatised, spoke and 
laughed quite at their ease. Their pride was in a marvellously 
healthy state. Several were blockheads, the majority were 
fops, but all were the happiest people in the world and the 
most welcome in society. As far as I myself was concerned, I 
could not get over a feeling of extreme diffidence, my whole 
capital seeming to me to consist of a sort of caput mortuum. I 
was even inclined to think that the capital was much less than 
it really was. Surrounded by the wealth of others I felt that 
I was poor ; consequently my only thought was to lock up 
what I had and what I knew. My unhealthy pride spared me 
none of its torments. When at a house where I knew no one 
intimately I made no attempt to make friends, for fear of being 
importunate or of having the air of one who begs for a welcome. 
This unhealthy state of mind clung to me even in family circles. 
I can still remember the figure that I cut at Mme. de Saint- 
Waasfs soirees. When I had walked round three or four 
rooms, looked on at a dozen games, and replied to the com- 
plimentary " Do you play this game ? '*■ my only refuge was the 
mantelpiece, where I used to stand in solitude. 

Such was the young man who made his bow to society. But 
of this society I was, as a matter of fact, able to obtain only a 
superficial knowledge ; for some eight to nine months later I 
set off on another journey. Then I lived for two years in the 
provinces, and when I returned to Paris it was no longer the 
same place : the Revolution had transformed it. Before it 
disappears I must, therefore, stop a few moments to sketch it. 

In 1780, the time about which I have briefly spoken above, 
everything in Paris was already ruined. Even the foundations 
were undermined. But its outward appearance remained and 
— as walls of painted cardboard would defend a city if the 
enemy were to take them for stone ramparts — still protected 
it. Women endured their chappins, hooped petticoats and 
trains ; men, their swords and hats carried under the arm ; 
magistrates, their black coats and well-powdered streaming 
hair ; and abhes, their bands, flat hats and small cloaks. But 
in 1787 the farce, as it has been called, was over — the curtain 



48 BARON DE FRENILLY 

had fallen — and people were beginning to see behind the 
scenes. Except on solemn occasions, abhes and prelates appeared 
in brown or violet short coats ; presidents in dress-coats, and 
with clubbed hair. The wig and its different forms, charac- 
teristic of the magistrate, the financier, the doctor, the pro- 
curator, or the big merchant, insensibly gave place to powdered 
hair. Women wore flat shoes, tight-fitting skirts, and a pierrot. 
The last-named was a sort of upturned bird's tail attached to 
the bottom of the corset, and it proclaimed an open revolt 
against trains and hoops. Though a revolution de Unoriy it was 
none the less a revolution which had its importance. In a 
hooped skirt the most frivolous coquette had the air of a 
matron ; in a pierrot the severest matron had the air of a linnet. 
I well recollect the general outcry which arose against pierrots. 
On the other hand, men had taken to waistcoats, which, when 
first worn, created a still greater uproar, and had more difficulty 
in forcing their way into drawing-rooms. Wiseacres declared 
that all was over : men were going about naked ; their shape 
was no longer hidden. It is almost needless to say that at the 
same time an auxiliary army of tight-fitting yellow kerseymere 
breeches, round hats, and dress-coats swarmed like Huns to the 
heart of the Empire. To be fashionable these breeches had to 
be so tight that you needed assistance to put them on. Art 
and prudence, too, had to be observed when walking, and still 
more when dancing ; whilst talent was a si7ie qua nan when 
sitting down or stooping, for the least thoughtless movement 
rendered them liable to some catastrophe or other. However, 
our abjuration was not complete ; we still used white silk 
stockings, buckled shoes and powder. The first head a la 
Titus that dared to appear (it was, I believe, that of M. de 
Valence, the son-in-law of Mme. de Genlis) provoked a general 
scandal. Our dress-coats, too, retained a trace of finery : they 
were made of very beautiful striped silk, trimmed with very 
bright and dear buttons. A set in steel was not magnificent 
when it cost twenty-five louis. Steel was then all the rage, 
the treaty of commerce with England having inundated us 
with it. It replaced gold and precious stones, and was used 
for everything : swords, buckles, loops, buttons, and watch- 
chains. There was no salvation without steel. 



NEW MODES 49 

But complete undress was gradually coming to the front. 
When top-boots crossed the threshold of a salon the victory 
was won. I myself have committed the folly of riding in the 
Bois de Boulogne after dinner in nankin breeches, silk stockings 
and pumps, and of returning home to put on small yellow 
top-boots before supping in town. This was the height of 
impertinence and the quintessence of good manners. To com- 
plete this picture of the invasion of frivolities, cabriolets, then 
called wiskys, must be added. They were still in their first 
form, and must not be confused with the heavy and rare cab- 
riolets which Louis XV. said he would have forbidden had he 
been Lieutenant of Police ; they were birds that skimmed 
along the ground.^ 

On the other hand, Figaro, his family and his school had 
replaced Corneille and Racine at the Comedie-Fran^aise. At 
the Opera, Quinault and Gluck had made room for Caravane 
and Panurge. Women had borrowed from the last the idea of 
lantern hats ; from Montgolfier's invention, balloon hats ; from 
Werther, which then shared with the Sentimental Journey the 
affection of the tender-hearted, Charlottes ; and from the Dau- 
phine's nurse, chapeaux a la Marlborough ^ of prodigious size. 
So as to owe nothing to our tight waistcoats and breeches, they 
had carried undress to the point of making it a sort of dressing- 
gown, then called an Aristote, — why, I know^ not. This 
fashion, which was invented by our poor Queen — who was 
getting stout — and the famous Mile. Bertin, hid the waist 
perfectly. 

Such, then, was the new external appearance of the people 
of Paris. "But," says some one to me (I really write as 

1 One of my father's nephews, a rich young man, possessed a cabriolet. He 
also had a large number of waistcoats and other articles of finery. I cannot help 
but smile when I remember the outcry which was raised against him in my 
family, and especially by my mother, who feared that I might copy his 
example. The poor fellow, who was merely joyously throwing his income 
out of the window, appeared in my mother's imagination, and consequently 
in mine, to be one of the beasts of the Apocalypse — an example of human 
degeneration. — F. 

a Mme. Poitrine, the Dauphine's nurse, rocked her royal nursling to the 
song of Marlborough, which, as one knows, gained great popularity. Every- 
thing became Marlborough — that is, red and white — and never had a fashion a 
longer or more glorious reign. — F. 



50 BARON DE FRENILLY 

though I were to be read), " is this all that you promised us ? 
waistcoats, pierrots, and wiskys ? What about manners and 
doctrines ? " But these are exactly what I have just described, as 
you will see if you take the trouble to raise the covering. If 
these people had worn waistcoats and top-boots from their 
birth, they might in that costume have been Solons, Socrates 
and Catos. Epaminondas went about naked. But they were 
born with swords by their sides and cloaks on their backs, and 
a time came when they found themselves wearing dress-coats 
and top-boots. The hereditary dress of a nation has no effect 
on its character ; but if, one fine day, it changes from white to 
black, evidently some mental change has taken place. To 
describe the one is to describe the other. Consequently, with 
this revolution in dress came a revolution in good manners. 
Henceforth there was a lack of respect towards men and of 
gallantry towards women ; etiquette was dead ; and the taste 
for a comfortable, selfish life led to the formation of clubs, the 
increase of restaurants and cafes, which robbed family life of its 
meal times. This separation of the sexes began to make a great 
void in society, a great pity, for the worst company for men are 
men, and for women, women. The only really good, moral and 
social company is that made by Nature, that in which women 
learn to respect each other and men to respect women, whom 
they treat as females when they are amongst themselves and as 
goddesses when they are in their presence. It was about 
this time that Baron de Breteuil, who, after being Am- 
bassador in Vienna, had become Minister of the King's 
household, decided — much less through a delicate feeling for 
social propriety than because of a fairly accurate appreciation 
of the political danger — to close the clubs.^ He was hissed by 
the men, without being applauded by the women, for there 
was already a disposition among the public to find everything 
bad. Moreover, he was personally disliked. He was the very 
opposite of his good and amiable son, who since then has 
become my friend and colleague. Severe, haughty and brusque, 
as was necessary if he had been supported, jests and songs 

1 For further details regarding the clubs of those days see Eocquain's 
L'Esprit r6volutiomiaire avant la Revolution, 18/8, p. 415, and Droz's Histoire 
du icgne de Louis XVI., vol. i. p. 326.— A. C. 



A FAMOUS SALON 51 

were heaped upon him, whilst his portrait — a very good 
hkeness without name — was sold everywhere. Underneath 
were two lines of music : the beginning of an arietta in the 
opera, Le Magnifique, which everybody then knew by heart. 
All that people had to do was to add the words as follows : 

Ah ! c'est un superbe cheval I 
On ne connut jamais de plus fier animal ! 



BoiiOaKA, July 24, 1837. 

I was in Rome and it was at the end of March when I 
made this break, and since then I have not been idle five 
minutes. Thanks to heaven, I have at last fallen ill in an inn 
at Bologna : the best position in the world to be in if you 
woiild muse without remorse. If suffering does not trouble 
me unduly, I shall employ this little holiday by returning to 
the Paris of some fifty years ago. 

A few of the salons of Paris had closed their doors to 
innovations, but I do not think the most celebrated. These, 
alas ! were only too infatuated with novelties. No, those to 
which I refer were the salons of the old magistrature and even 
some of those of the haute finance, which was becoming a 
nobility whilst the nobility transformed itself into the people. 
Among them was the drawing-room of my august aunt, 
Mme. de Saint- Waast, which was beginning to occupy an 
important position, and where the new airs and apparel would 
certainly not have been welcomed. In speaking of this circle 
I reproach myself with having forgotten to mention some of its 
members. The first and foremost was old M. Delahante, the 
Farmer- General, a friend and guest of the house where, in the 
morning, he occupied the second floor, and in the evening an 
armchair facing that of M. de Saint- Waast on the opposite 
side of the fireplace. He was the vice-president of the coterie 
and played his part with calmness, but gracefully, amiably, 
wittily, and with a spice of banter. He was a model of good 
manners and politeness.^ He had a son, one of the most 

1 Readers who wish to know more of the Delahante family are advised lo 
consult M. Adrien Delahante's book, Une Famille dejinance au XVIIIe. slide, 



52 BARON DE FRENILLY 

handsome and amiable young men of Paris, and whom he had 
the sorrow to survive ; also a nephew of the same name, like- 
wise a farmer-general, a tall, bony, square-shouldered man, 
with a dry, hard, vulgar face. He smelt of money a mile off. 
On becoming a millionaire through the death of his cousin, he 
married the good Adele de Parseval, who was as admirable a 
woman as he, at bottom, was an excellent man. After him I 
recollect another farmer-general, remarkable for his imposing 
face, tall stature, noble bearing, and cold, superb air. He was 
the very image of an old duke or peer ; the only thing lacking 
to make the likeness complete was a little modesty. This was 
M. de Luzines. He spoke little, and I think that he was 
right in doing so. He was a horseman and possessed exquisite 
taste as regards furniture and jewellery. He also had a nephew 
in tow, named Lauzon, a farmer-general in embryo, big and 
good-natured, but the commonest fellow in the world. The 
handing on of financial positions from father to son seemed to 
be on the decline ; it was the great grandsons who carried on 
the tradition. After M. de Luzines I remember M. de Lorry, 
Bishop of Angers, a big, stout, handsome and good man, 
exceedingly worldly, and burdened with livings and debts. ^ 
Especially do I recall the peerless Valory family. It began 
with the Chevalier, who bent his eighty-year-old head, curled 
and re-curled, over a little crutch bearing an opera-glass. 
Then came his niece, Mile, de Valory, a little hunchback, full 
of goodness, wit and originality. She was my aunt's insepar- 
able friend, and occupied the third floor of the house. Her 
niece, the Comtesse Marthe de Valory, comes next. She was 
an emaciated canoness with an aquiline nose, a bold and lively 
woman whom I regarded with terror, and who ended by 
marrying her surgeon. Finally, there should be mentioned 
the Marquis and Marquise de Valory ; the former a tall, hand- 
in ■which they will find some curious details concerning Jacques Delahante, 
his son Antoine Jacques, who, like Frenilly, travelled in Switzerland and the 
South of France, and his nephew Etlenne Marie (1743-1829), whom Mme. 
de Saint-Waast married to Addle de Parseval. — A. C. 

1 Michel Frangois Couet du Vivier de Lorry, born at Metz in 1728, Bishop 
of Vence (1764), then of Tarbes (1769), and finally of Angers (1782). In 
September 1792 he took refuge at the hamlet of St. Germain (Marmontel'a 
Ifemoires, Tourneux edition, vol. iii. p. 319). — A. C. 



D'ESPREMESNIL 53 

some, simple and excellent man ; the latter the daughter of 
the celebrated Dupleix. She had been brought up in her 
father's palace in India, had been treated there as a royal 
personage, and still showed signs of it. But she was a woman 
of virtue and merit, and clearly recognised the Red and the 
Black that was behind the veil of that Revolution which 
announced itself so joyfully. 

It must, however, be admitted that the small number of 
people who saw and spoke like the Marquise de Valory met 
with the fate of Cassandra. Everybody else rushed headlong 
dovm the avenues of that roseate Revolution. They allowed 
things to slide, either laughingly or with a shrug of the 
shoulders. Even the majority of the most prominent aristo- 
crats — those who a year later supported the throne with the 
keenest ardour — were then parliamentarians, and, without fore- 
seeing the Constituent Assembly, called for the States-General. 
I recollect the day when D"'Espremesnil enraptured the Chamber 
of Inquiries, subjugated the Upper Chamber, and made Parlia- 
ment pass that memorable resolution in which he repudiated 
his encroachments, refuted his privileges, and proclaimed his 
incompetence regarding taxation — speaking the truth for the 
first time — and abdicating, in order to harm the Cro^vn, the 
rights he had usurped. He was to dine that day at M. de 
Saint- Waast's. He arrived late, exhausted and beside himself, 
holding in his hand a scrap of paper — the resolution, which he 
at once read aloud. A general cry of admiration greeted him, 
and before thinking of dining everybody copied the document, 
twenty copies of which were circulating in Paris that same 
evening — twenty copies that on the following day multiplied to 
ten thousand. D'Espremesnil dared not show himself; altars 
would have been raised in his honour ; he would have dragged 
Parisians at his heels. Four years later the same people stoned 
him, for he had repented. 

What particularly lent a serious and prophetic character to 
this mad enthusiasm was the outbreak of aversion towards the 
Queen. The class of society which had thro\vn off the cowl 
hated her because she did not care for etiquette ; wild over 
the most extravagant modes, it hated her because she loved 
fashion, and never was the perverting minister of a king, never 



54 BARON DE FRENILLY 

was Cardinal Dubois more cursed than was Mile. Bertin when 
she recommended trimmings to her. Passionately fond of 
good music (France owed Gluck to her), she had accorded a 
pension to three charming musicians who sang at her concerts : 
Azevedo, Louet and Garat, and on this account was publicly 
declared to be the State vampire. But Paris had nobler food 
to feed its hatred of the Queen. Who does not remember the 
Polignacs, a poor but good Auvergne family, whose charming 
daughters had gained her affection ? The modest favours 
which this friendship brought their family were not a hun- 
dredth part of those which our kings have heaped on the least 
of their favourites. Well, you should have seen the bitter 
hatred aroused in Paris by the name of the Polignacs and all 
that resulted from it in the case of their protectress. I do 
not refer to one or two intrigues attributed to her by women 
who had had twenty. They were neither proved nor probable, 
and the remainder of her life sufficiently showed what honour 
and virtue she possessed. No matter ; the name of Messalina 
hardly sufficed to characterise her. With what tenderness, 
too, they sympathised with her husband, that poor Louis XVI. 
for whom, as regards everything else, they had a superb disdain, 
and whom they nicknamed " The Locksmith "" or " The Big 
Pig " ! Whatever did these people want ? They cared only 
for the bourgeoisie and their king was bourgeois ; they abhorred 
etiquette and their queen liked it no better than they did. 
What did they want ? What a spoilt child needs : a severe 
master, inflexible rules, something to counteract their weak- 
nesses and fancies ; a cold, stiff and devout queen ; a hard 
and imperious king. It is said that the French character 
requires seriousness in a Sovereign. They would perhaps 
have hated their masters, but they would not have jostled 
them. Alas ! the King was the last sort of man to succeed 
Louis XV. He was a good man and a good husband — 
pious, chaste, virtuous, just and humane ; but he lacked 
intelligence, character, will-power and experience. He was an 
inert and badly-shaped mass, stout and heavy in gait, brusque, 
coarse, common in his manner of speaking and vulgar in his 
manners. To do him justice it was necessary to close one's 
eyes and reflect. Speaking of the Marquis de Saint-Geran, 



CARDINAL DE ROHAN 55 

Mme. de Sevigne once said : " Big Saint-Geran needs to be 
killed to be really esteemed." In the case of Louis XVI. this 
has been only too true. 

I must not, however, omit to mention the most serious 
grievance which people had against the Queen. There lived in 
France a man who was universally despised for his vices, scan- 
dalous conduct, and debts. He was Grand Almoner of France, 
Abbe of Saint- Waast, Marmoutiers, Chaise-Dieu, and other 
places, Bishop-Prince of Strasburg, and the possessor of an 
income of 180,000 livres from livings — in short. Cardinal 
de Rohan, a handsome, lordly-mannered man, amiable and 
witty. His embassy in Vienna had resulted in Louis XVI.\s 
marriage. When Maria Theresa led him into the apart- 
ment of the four young archduchesses with the words : 
" Make your choice,"" he chose Marie Antoinette. But I 
have forgotten one of this Cardinal's characteristics, the most 
striking though the most pitiful of all : his superstition and 
belief in everything, except, perhaps, in God. His reputation 
and fortune had become the plaything of every charlatan. We 
know what an influence was exercised over him by the self-styled 
Comte Cagliostro, who once made him believe that he was 
having supper between Aspasia and Jesus Christ, and what a 
position this knave and his wife occupied at the Cardinal's 
chateau at Saverne. Here is a true anecdote about this 
Figaro, who sparkled with wit, animation and originality. 

At the Cardinal's table at Saverne his manner was ostenta- 
tious, whilst his dovelike wife, who sat a few seats away, played 
the duchess. On one occasion there sat next to her the Mar- 
quis de Noailles, who was on his way, I believe, to his embassy 
at Vienna. Now, through I know not what piece of clumsiness, 
he upset the contents of a sauce-boat on to the lady. She 
jumped to her feet with loud cries, and the Marquis humbly 
apologised, whereupon Cagliostro, in a mixture of French and 
Italian, addressed his wife as follows : " C'est votre faute, Sig- 
ora ; perch e vous avez voulu vous asseoire a cote d'oiin imperti- 
nentef'' At the word impertine?ite, the Marquis, who was 
washing and wiping the lady's dress as best he could, turned to 
Cagliostro and said : " Sir, let us retire ; you shall answer on 
the spot for this insult." " Yes, yes, let us go out," shouted 



56 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Cagliostro ; " it's a matter of life or death — bisogna qu'oun de 
nous deux y reste. Monsieur le Marquis, choose your weapon." 
" Parbleu, the sword,"" replied De Noailles. " Good ! " ejaculated 
Cagliostro, " and I will choose mine." " And what is that ? " 
asked the Marquis. " Parbleu, an emetic. You shall pass 
your sword through my chest, and I will pass my emetic down 
your throat. After that, let him live who can ! " Although 
the Marquis was purple with rage, he was forced to laugh, for 
everybody was laughing — and there the matter ended. I did 
not witness this scene myself, but it was related to me by one 
who did — Brejole, then tutor to Prince Jules, and who, being a 
very passable buffoon himself, imitated Cagliostro's buffooneries 
exceedingly well. 

We are all familiar with the story of the diamond necklace. 
Every one knows that certain mischievous women got the Car- 
dinal to buy this magnificent collier, which they then got into 
their possession, he thinking that he was giving it to the Queen, 
and that, instead of placing the Queen of France and the Great 
Almonry in an impenetrable sanctuary, instead of seizing the 
diamonds in England, sending the thieves to the Repenties and 
exiling the Cardinal to his smallest abbey, the imprudent and 
short-sighted Louis XVI., the good philosophical king, the 
friend of justice and the enemy of lettres de cachet, sent Louis 
de Rohan to the Bastille, and the case to the Parliament of 
Paris. It was throwing a match into a barrel of gunpowder, 
and the barrel exploded with a terrible crash. The powerful 
Rohan family rose like one man and entrusted Target with the 
Cardinal's defence. A thousand shafts during this defence 
struck the Queen and, though the advocate blunted them, the 
public replaced the barbs. At last judgment was delivered, 
condemning the subordinates and absolving the Cardinal. He 
was sent to Marmoutiers, a thing that ought to have been done 
in the beginning, and so well were matters managed that the 
despised man was commiserated whilst the Queen was suspected 
and hated.^ 

Thus was everything toppling over ; there was nothing but 

1 At the outbreak of the Revolution, the Cardinal vvithOrew to his Princi- 
pality of Kehl, on the other side of the Ehine, and became the generous 
supporter of the imigris. He was a true Rohan 1 — F. 



FINANCIAL SITUATION 57 

a succession of false steps and falls. Comptrollers-General fell 
one after the other. The bad financial situation and the per- 
petual lack of money made them masters of the State, but no 
sooner did they take office than they were hissed, ridiculed in 
songs, and exhausted. M. de Calonne had an advantage over 
the others in having already undergone this treatment, owing 
to his bad reputation. Moreover, he was a man of intelligence, 
and as courtly as he was amiable. You know the reply he 
made to one of the Queen's requests : " Madame, if the thing 
is possible, it is done ; if it is impossible, it shall be accom- 
plished." The burden that had made all the others withdraw 
he took up lightly, but he found neither confidence nor credit. 
His Assembly of Notables would have been a good idea if we 
had been living in the days of the States of Tours. It resulted 
in nothing because we had reached a period of doubt and 
general anxiety, when the dominating thought was to look after 
oneself and get out of the scrape. It was neutralised by the 
Parliamentary party, which clamoured for reforms, and by the 
Orleans party, which thought of nothing but revolutions. It 
produced naught save evil, for a remedy, that has been extolled 
and announced as certain, leaves us in a worse state than before 
if it fails. The uproar increased, there was a call for the States- 
General, and M. de Calonne departed with his Notables. As 
compensation a virtuous man was chosen, M. d'Ormesson, an 
honoured name in the magistrature whom they much wished to 
conciliate. But " virtue without money is only a useless orna- 
ment," and so his career was short. I believe — for I am trusting 
entirely to my memory — that his successor was M. de Brienne,^ 
that illustrious Archbishop of Toulouse who had issued charges 
and administered his diocese, which was then a rare thing. 
Nobody seemed worthier to look after the affairs of State. He 
took office, paid the rentes in paper money, and fell in the 
midst of a greater uproar than before. At last came the turn 
of M. de Lamoignon,^ a Parliamentary deserter whom they 
wished to make into a second Maupeou ; a man without con- 

1 Frclnilly's memory deceives him. D'Ormesson preceded Calonne. See 
Rocquain's L" Esprit rivolvlionnaire avant la involution, pp. 406-407. — A. C. 

2 In reference to Lamoignon, see M. Marcel Marion's Lamoignon et la 
Rifonne Militaire de 1783. — A. C. 



58 BARON DE FRENILLY 

sideration, morals or principles — a bold meddler involved in 
debts which he has since paid by committing suicide. This 
was the last step, the point at which the Revolution broke out 
in earnest. 

At this time — in 1788 — steps were taken to obtain for me 
the succession to the post of Administrator-General. People 
clearly saw that the State was threatened with a grave derange- 
ment, but who would have imagined that the Administrators- 
General would be suppressed ? My excellent uncle, who con- 
sidered that there was nothing so important as this high 
financial position, desired that I should make myself worthy of 
it by a deep study of the domanial science. I had, therefore, 
to resign myself to passing six mornings a week in the office of 

M. M , a Director of Domaines, who, full of zeal and 

respect for the future administrator, loaded my table with the 
most appetising dossiers and left me to slumber in peace. But 
three times a week, at noon, I woke up. My pretty cousin 
De Bon called upon me and we went off together to the Lycee. 

Next to politics, the Lycee was then the rage of Paris. ^ It 
was a fine, spacious building near the Palais Royal, standing 
on the site where the Opera had been burnt down. It con- 
tained pretty drawing-rooms, a valuable library, and a large 
hall in which, from nine in the morning until ten at night, 
lectures on all sorts of subjects followed one on the other : 
physics, chemistry, anatomy, botany, astronomy, and literature, 
in addition to history and languages. Garat — the pale, 
academic and heavy Garat, the uncle of the inimitable singer, 
who is only remembered because he had the terrible honour of 
having got into the King''s carriage to take him to the guillotine, 
Garat delivered to us a flat, diffuse, and yet fashionable lecture 
on history. The bombastic, ruddy-cheeked, and conceited La 
Harpe — promoted to the position of a great man since Voltaire, 
Bufibn, Montesquieu, and Rousseau had disappeared from the 

1 See Charles Dejob's study De V Etahlissement connu sous le nom de Lyc6e et 
A' AtMn&e et de quelques itailissements analogues in the Bevue internationale de 
I' enseignement for July 15, 1889. It was on January 8, 1786, that Garat and La 
Harpe respectively inaugurated at the Lyc6e instruction in literary history and 
history proper. They represented the new spirit.' Boissy d'Anglas says that 
La Harpe "combated Montesquieu's errors regarding the monarchy, whilst 
Garat formed minds full of republican energy." — A. C. 



A GREEDY ACADEMICIAN 59 

scene, leaving only Condorcet, La Harpe delivered that famous 
Cours de Litterature^ which has since found a place in all 
libraries — save mine. What fatuity this little great man did 
show ! At the close of his lectures he used to walk about the 
salons, with his crimson forehead and shiny cheeks, receiving 
with superb benignity the compliments of his audience. Five 
years later, I saw him — red cap on head — in that same hall of 
the Lycee, roaring like a madman a barbarous ode, of which I 
remember only these concluding lines : 

Le fer, amis, le fer, il presse le carnage ; 
Le fer, il boit le sang : le sang donne la rage, 
Et la rage donne la mort 1 

Alas ! this poor little Archilochus knew no other madness 
than fear, and he was terribly frightened that the Tarquins of 
those days would mow down the prince of literature. Once 
more, three years later, I met him there again, his hair white 
with powder, and on this occasion, amidst the transports of 
joy of all Paris, he delivered an aristocratic discourse on Ut 
and vous. He was then under the tutelage of Mme. de 
Clermont-Tonnerre [since our good and singular Mme. de 
Talaru], who converted him to Catholicism without making 
him a Christian, for he was as intolerant a Catholic as he had 
been intolerant a poet. Above all was he the greediest of 
Academicians. Here is a fact which was related to me by my 
old friend Mme. de Damas. One evening he was dining with 
her at Li\Ty seated by her side. It was a Friday, and La 
Harpe ate not a bite. At the second course his gluttony 
got the better of him. " How is it, Madame,"" he said, " that 
at the house of a Christian lady like you fish is not served on 
a Friday ? " " No fish ! " exclaimed Mme. de Damas ; " why 
here are soles before you."" " Ah ! "" replied La Harpe, slightly 
confused, " I thought they were dabs."" 

To La Harpe and Garat must be added that best of men, 
most skilful of physicians and most lucid of demonstrators, 
the modest Parcieux ; the arrogant Fourcroy, as bad a citizen 
as he was poor a chemist, who delivered his incomprehensible 
academico-chemical bombast at full speed ; and Sue, a faded 
beau who, in the course of his anatomical lectures, was gallant 



60 BARON DE FRENILLY 

to the ladies.^ I conscientiously attended all these lectures, 
and was foolish enough to analyse them in the evening, so 
frightened was I of forgetting something. Since then I have 
done with my copy-books what the majority of the professors 
should have done with theirs — made them into a bonfire. 
But what am I thinking about ! I would leave the Lycee for 
ever without saying a word about Mme. Recamier''s vehoule ? ^ 
Mme. Recamier has become too celebrated to conceal from 
posterity the source of her glory. Every day, morning and 
evening, in the midst of the fashionable audience of the Lycee, 
in the midst of all sorts of finery and the huge hats which had 
replaced hoop petticoats, there was to be seen a young woman 
of bewitching beauty and perfect figure, dressed in white and 
wearing on her head the white knotted handkerchief which 
Creoles call a vehoule. It was Mme. Recamier. At balls, 
theatres, and during her walks she appeared in this vehoule 
and a white dress. She was modest and simple — I was almost 
saying rather silly — and all this suited her admirably. The 
vehoule was a great success, and Mme. Recamier having like- 
wise attained celebrity and purchased M. Necker''s fine house 
in the Chaussee d'Antin, she found herself the goddess of a 
charming place, the hostess of a good table, and the Aspasia 
of a group of men of rank and wit. Common interests bound 
her to Mme. de Stael. Mme. de Stael had pretensions to 
everything ; Mme. Recamier to nothing, or at least she 
appeared to be unpretending. Their union, therefore, was 
prompt and intimate. One contributed devotion and praise ; 
the other, the rank of a wit and reputation. The white vehoule 
brought all this about. Without it Mme. Recamier would 
have remained the beautiful but ineffectual wife of a big 
banker. Since, her husband ruined himself, sold his house 

1 La Harpe and Garat are sufficiently well known. Parcieux, or rather 
Deparcieux (1753-1799), received a recompense of 3000 francs from the Con- 
vention, Fourcroy (1755-1809) sat at the Convention and was made a count 
by Napoleon. Sue, the father of the novelist, was surgeon at the Hopital de 
la Charite and Professor of Anatomy at the School of Painting and Sculpture. 
—A. C. 

2 What Frenilly says here relates to a later period, since Juliette Barnard, 
who became Mme. Eecamier in 1793, was only twelve years old in 1789. See 
Herriot's Madame Bdcamier et ses amis. 1904. — A. C. 



JOURNEY TO THE MIDI 61 

and, I believe, died. Mme. Recamier, who retired to the 
Abbaye au Bois, remained a hel esprit^ the centre and idol of 
the great men of the day, and I have no doubt that she still 
wears her vehoule. 

We had reached the beginning of July. Mme. de Bon, as 
guardian of her two sons, possessed a very fine estate between 
Nimes and Aries. And the time for the Beaucaire Fair was 
approaching. It was a splendid opportunity for a pretty 
young widow to see the world and show herself, whilst visiting, 
like a wise mother, her children's property. But to travel four 
hundred leagues there and a like distance back, alone, was a 
dull occupation. So she proposed that I should accompany 
her. A vision of open skies appearing before me, I put the 
matter to my mother, who at once spoke to Mme. de Chazet. 
The lady made rather a long face, as much as to say : " They 
are very young.*" But the little widow did exactly what she 
liked, and on speaking of the solitude and danger of the 
journey obtained her mother's consent. She was twenty-five 
years of age ; I close on twenty. Could anything be more 
proper ? My excellent mother undertook to prove to my uncle 
that there could be no better preparation for a financial career 
than the Beaucaire Fair, and they decided that after this study 
I should complete my domanial education at the capital of my 
States, Poitiers ; for, after my father, I had the title to the 
office of Receiver-General of the domaines of Poitou and 
Angoumois. So everything was agreed upon. With my 
mother's thirty louis in my pocket, off" we went. Our equipage 
had a grand air. It consisted of a berlin, six post-horses and 
two mounted lackeys. At the back of the berlin sat my 
beautiful cousin and I ; in front, her little boy and a femme de 
chamhre. The weather was admirable. The roads were as 
they were before the Revolution. We tore along, on pleasure 
bent. What more could a young man of twenty desire ? 
Nothing save love for his companion. She was wholly charming 
and yet I did not love her — quite young, too, yet I feared her. 
There was something decided in her character, something 
peremptory in her tone — in short, I knew that she did not 
love me. But I was young, fresh, fairly good-looking, and 
ridiculously simple, and I ought to have known that a young 



62 BARON DE FRENILLY 

widow can like these things without actually loving the owner. 
In spite of all my efforts, however, I could not succeed in falling 
in love. We entered Lyons, saw Nina played by Mme. Dugazon, 
and supped with the Intendant, M. de Tholozan. The next 
day we passed Pont Saint Esprit, crossed Nimes, and then the 
fine estate of Fourques, the object of our journey. At last we 
reached Aries, where a rather fine house had been retained for 
us. Everybody there was a relation, a friend or an acquaintance 
of the beautiful widow. I do not know whether I have 
explained that her father-in-law, the Marquis de Bon, lived in 
the district, and had been first president of the Montpellier 
Court of Accounts. Our salon was never empty. Adorers 
abounded. I was as jealous as a Turk, and to be jealous with- 
out being in love is the height of the ridiculous. At this she 
laughed in her sleeve, looked out of the corner of her eye, and 
seemed to say to me : " I see very well of whom you are jealous, 
but I should like to know of what." In short, I was stupid. I 
possessed wit, grace, good manners, and an elegant figure ; I 
wrote pretty verses ; and a hundred proofs were now given me 
that I was loved and desired. Yet I did not believe them ! 

In July, Aries was like a suburb of Beaucaire, and, awaiting 
the opening of the great market, people from the four quarters 
of the globe assembled there. M. de Bellefaye ^ held his court 
there. Son of the rich Farmer- General de Laage and son-in- 
law of the equally wealthy banker Duruet, he had that year 
been sent to the provinces to squander one hundred thousand 
francs as Farmer- General. He had just made a tour among 
his tributaries of Aix, Toulon, and Marseilles, and had been 
welcomed everywhere by deputations, speeches and salvoes of 
artillery. He was a tall, fair young man, with a rather sheepish 
face and a habit, as though he were king of Aries, of holding 
his head in the air and throwing out his chest. He paid me a 
visit. We had known each other in Paris, and in the course 

1 C16ment Frangois Philippe de LaSge Bellefaye. With two other assistant 
farmers-general, Sanlot and Delahante, he had the good luck to escape 
being included amongst those who were executed on the 19th of Floreal, that 
"batch" consisting of twenty-eight farmers-general, including his own 
father, Clement de LaSge. See Delahante's Une Famille de finance au XVlIIe. 
sUele, vol. iii p. 453, and Wallon's Histoire da Tribunal revolvtionnaire de 
Paris, vol. iii. pp. 398-399.— A. C. 



THE BEAUCATRE FAIR 63 

of our conversation we came to the conclusion that an honest 
man could not live without at least eight carriages. Six would 
have satisfied me, but he insisted, and I did not care to submit 
to the affront of being less needy than he. As a matter of 
fact I did not then possess even a cabriolet. He had a band 
of his own which played every afternoon on the Place d' Aries, 
and every evening at the ball in his palace. During the 
morning we rode in the suburbs, played tennis or paid visits. 
Then we dined at Bellefaye's or at some other house, but never 
at home. In the evening we promenaded on the bridge of 
boats, to watch the barges of the whole world ascend the 
Rhone, and to eat ices, after which we returned to the King 
of Aries to sup and dance until five in the morning. Such 
were our first studies, and by the time the Fair began I had 
already greatly profited. A very pretty and charmingly 
furnished house, with a garden, had been got ready for us at 
Beaucaire. 

Beaucaire was then a replica of the St. Germain Fair, with 
this difference, that its boundaries were larger, its streets nar- 
rower, its site less uniform, and its spectators one hundred 
thousand instead of a few thousands. Its multitude of little 
intersecting streets were covered, on a level with the third floor 
of the houses, with large awnings, so that the whole town was 
under a sort of huge parasol. Below, two rows of shops, 
illuminated during part of the night, offered for sale goods 
from all parts of the world. The Persian could purchase there 
Wedgwood cups and the Englishman Shiraz wine in goatskin 
bottles. Between the town and the Rhone, at the foot of that 
steep hill which has been made illustrious by the fable of 
Aucassin and Nicolette, stretched an immense field called the 
Champ des Aulx, because whilst the Fair was held the whole 
stock of garlic to be consumed during the year by the Midi 
was displayed there. That extensive plain covered with garlic 
to a depth of two feet, divided into compartments by the mer- 
chants and into streets for the convenience of customers, was a 
wonderful sight. ^ A little finrther to the south, on the opposite 
bank of the Rhone, was Tarascon with its wooden bridge and 

1 See Stendhal's description of the Beaucaire Fair in M6moires d'un Tourute, 
vol. ii. pp. 90-99, and A. Chuquet's Stendhal-Beyle, p. 346.— A. C. 



64 BARON DE FRENILLY 

famous Tarasque, the procession of which — usually held at the 
time of the Beaucaire Fair — did not take place that year. 

During the day, everybody who was not either a buyer or a 
seller scattered over the beautiful country on foot, on horseback 
or in carriages. The meadows were covered with tents and 
tables ; everywhere people were singing and dancing ; and at 
nightfall they returned to the town to dance again — the 
populace on the public places, the middle classes in the dancing 
gardens, and the fashionable world at the Farmer-General's. 
At M. de Bellefaye's there was every day a dinner of one 
hundred and fifty covers, followed by a ball attended by seven 
to eight hundred people. I dined there two or three times. 
I danced there every night, so as to neglect nothing of my 
domanial education. Yet I do not remember a single detail of 
that confused crowd of people of all countries, — not a name 
occurs to me, unless, perhaps, it is that of the little Marquise 
d'Aramon, who shared with my beautiful cousin the admiring 
looks and homage of the assembly. One was a little provincial 
violet — white, fresh, simple and timid, with the most lovely 
blue eyes in the world ; the other dark, transparent, proud, and 
passably coquettish, a Parisian of studied elegance and lively 
beauty. 

Thus passed an enchanting week, at the end of which every- 
body left. M. de Bellefaye returned to Paris ; Mme. de Bon 
proceeded to Aries, to look after her Fourques estate, and there, 
before leaving for Provence, I spent three more days in her 
company. I say three days, for I have nothing to say of the 
nights. The last, however, is fresh in my memory, and still 
rises before me full of reproaches. Everybody had retired and 
I was in my room packing. Half an hour later my door silently 
opened and Adelaide, without a light, and in a charming 
neglige^ entered on tip-toe. I ran towards her with a cry. 
" Above all things, no noise," she said, putting her hand over 
my mouth ; " for that will cause a scandal. Everybody is not 
as discreet as you are and people are already chattering too 
much." " Who are they ? " I asked, furiously, " and about 
what are they talking ? " " Calm yourself ! " she replied. 
" You ask who ? Why, everybody. And about what ? You 
know well enough. Don't they dare to say that I am your 



A NOCTURNAL VISIT G5 

mistress ? And that is why I am letting you go. But let us 
sit down/'' And it was on my bed that we sat ! " Augustc," 
she continued, " you are very young, whereas I am old, although 
still passable. What say you to that ? I know the world a 
little, but you not at all, and you are going out into it alone. 
Therefore, I have come to give you some advice. Draw the 
curtains, for there are windows opposite and people might 
think that I am here for something else.*" " What ! "" I ex- 
claimed. " That I abuse your confidence ? That . . . that 
. . ." " Say not a word ! " interjected Adelaide. " You act 
the honest man ; but everybody does not believe you are as 
good as you say, and have not I myself seen ? . . . Do I not 
clearly perceive ? " " Seen what ? Perceived what ? "" I asked. 
" Oh ! nothing," she responded. Whereupon I excitedly burst 
out into protests and justifications. I was moved to the 
bottom of my heart at the confiding and maternal step she had 
taken. I would have stabbed whoever suspected her; I would 
have stabbed myself rather than touch her with the end of my 
finger. Never had I felt more chivalrous. Poor Adelaide ! 
She gave me some very good advice. " You are amiable, 
sensitive and without experience," she said. " People will take 
possession of you. You will find coquettes in your path, and 
women will say ' I love you."* But do not listen to them, 
listen only to the woman who will love you without telling you. 
Mon Dieu ! you will find such women. And if you choose a 
mistress — you need one at your age, well. . . . But, Auguste, 
am I not mad to speak to you in this way ? One would 
think that I was your mother, and yet . . . ." " Oh ! that 
does not matter," responded I. " Continue and I swear to 
you. . . ." " Swear not ! " exclaimed Adelaide, who was 
frightened of my oath. Thus did two hours pass. Gradually 
her tone changed ; first dryness and then sourness intervening. 
The more I expressed my gratitude the more vinegary she 
became. We parted at two in the morning : I, edified and 
impressed ; she respected and out of patience. 

The next day I was on the Salon road — alone and for 
the first time using my own wings. After passing through 
Provence, I visited Avignon, the delicious Plain of Comtat 
and the sad Fountain of Vaucluse, which does not merit its 

£ 



66 BARON DE FRENILLY 

reputation. Finally, recrossing the Rhone, I entered the 
Cevennes, crossed Uzes, then the Pont du Gard, to which Rome 
can show nothing comparable, and arrived for the night in 
Brejole's native town, Alais. 

He called upon me at the inn, and in the twinkling of an 
eye we were the best friends in the world. He installed me in 
his family, and I spent a week with them. The Abbe and I, 
mounted on hacks, made a tour in the Cevennes. On reaching 
the little town of Durfort late at night we found the place lit 
up, the people dancing, wine flowing, and a bonfire consuming 
an image of M. de Lamoignon. The cause of their joy was the 
news of his disgrace and the recall of M. Necker.^ The 
Revolution had begun. 

I left my companion at Vigan, and whilst he was returning 
to Alais I pushed on to Nimes, whence, after spending two days 
in seeing the antiquities, I reached Montpellier. 

After this I proposed to go to Aries and rejoin Adelaide, 
little thinking that I was on ill terms with her, for this is one 
of the things that a woman never explains to a man who has 
had the impertinence to respect her — and I was much too 
stupid to suspect it. I must explain that, at the time we were 
friendly, it had been agreed that we should see her father-in- 
law at Narbonne, then visit Toulouse and Bordeaux, and finally 
reach Poitiers, where we were to part. She was, therefore, to 
await me at Aries, to begin this second tour. But before 
leaving Montpellier I learnt that she had already left for 
Narbonne. " Good," said I to myself, " it's my own fault. 
IVe protracted my journey too long. Shell be waiting for me 
at Narbonne." Immediately ordering horses and a chaise, I 
set off*. As I was changing horses ten hours from Mont- 
pellier, who should arrive at full gallop but two couriers — 
Adelaide's couriers ! " Where is your mistress ? ^ I asked. 
" Monsieur, she will be here in ten minutes. We are returning 
to Montpellier." My ideas became confused. Leaving my 
chaise at the posting-house, I went to meet her. Soon I saw 
a cloud of dust, six horses and a berlin. I motioned to the 

1 Necker was recalled on August 26, 1788, but the Keeper of the Seals, 
Lamoignon, who was replaced by Barentin, did not retire until three weeks 
later, on September 14. — A. C. 



ABANDONED! 67 

postillions ; the carriage drew up ; and I opened the door. 
" Good day, cousin, are you going to Poitiers ? "" said Adelaide ; 
" Fm going to the camp of Metz." " But what about 
Bordeaux ? " I asked. " It will be for another time . . ." was 
the reply. " I've changed my mind. Bon voyage, and close 
the coach-door well." And with these words she was off*, 
leaving me standing in the middle of the road, utterly non- 
plussed. It was absolutely necessary, however, to follow her, 
for, in addition to wanting an explanation, my clothes were in 
her trunks. So I returned to the posting-house as fast as my 
legs would carry me. She had gone. I jumped into my 
chaise and set off" in pursuit, but only to find at each fresh 
stage, that she had left half an hour before. Not until Mont- 
pellier was reached did I overtake her. It was then late ; our 
conversation was short ; my clothes were unpacked ; and at 
five o'clock the next morning the helle bid me farewell, with 
recommendations to be always very good and to make a close 
study of the customary of Poitou. 

So there I was, alone, at Montpellier, where I did not know 
a soul, with a heap of clothes and other things, very little 
money, and a journey of two hundred leagues in front of me. 
True, my mother had given me an extra twenty-five louis since 
my departure, making in all seventy-five — a very decent sum, 
and more than sufficient for some people to make their tour of 
France. But I had travelled a good deal and in a noble style, 
throwing away my money like a presumptive Administrator- 
General and emulator of M. de BeUefaye. In short, I found 
that by being extremely parsimonious I should be able to reach 
Poitiers without a sou in my pocket. 

I decided to ride post and to set out for my capital at full 
speed. I purchased a small valise to hold necessaries and 
a trunk for my past fineries. Then, having filled the latter, I 
addressed it to Poitiers. At last, after passing from fifteen to 
eighteen stages, I reached Narbonne. There I dined, made my 
toilet, and hastened to call on the Marquis de Bon and his 
sister the Marquise de Durban, who had the best house in the 
town. They received me as though I were a son and kept me 
for two days. 

On entering Toulouse, sore with riding, I held council with 



68 BARON DE FRENILLY 

my purse. My knightly manner of travelling was no longer 
possible : it was necessary to seek for a more ordinary one. I 
found it on a boat which was descending the Garonne to 
Bordeaux. With the exception of a corner of the poop, 
where there was a tent and a divan of trusses of hay for the 
convenience of passengers, it was entirely filled with bales of 
merchandise. I was falling lower and lower. But the weather 
was admirable, the banks of the Garonne charming, the trusses 
softened the wooden seats, and I had good company : an 
exceedingly gay little woman who was returning to Paris, a 
young jew of Bordeaux, amiable and prepossessing, and a little 
Englishman of my own age for whom I came to have — and he 
for me — a very tender friendship that lasted nearly a week. I 
have forgotten his name. 

It was in this procession that the man who could not live 
without eight carriages entered the superb city of Bordeaux — 
Bordeaux, one of the worWs marvels and the dearest of all. I 
wanted to visit and see everything ; consequently, after four 
days, there was nothing else to do, in order to finish my 
journey with honour, but to engage a waggoner to take me to 
Poitiers, payment, including all expenses, to be made on 
arrival. 

Of the nine francs which I had in my pocket there remained 
but twelve sous when I entered my metropolis. But I took 
possession of it as Scipio did the coast of Africa. I hastened 
to my Receiver Des Minieres, made his acquaintance and also 
that of his cash-box, and came away with a roll of louis. My 
trunk had arrived, and so, an hour later, I was paying visits — 
my hair well-dressed and powdered, a dress coat on my back, 
my hat under my arm, and a sword by my side. 

I must now come down a peg lower. I have no longer to 
paint a picture of Paris, with its fashions, politics and follies, 
but to return, if I can, to that little provincial capital where I 
was required to stay a few months and where I willingly passed 
two of the happiest years of my life. 

Of all third-rate towns Poitiers was then the most crooked, 
the hilliest, the narrowest, the dirtiest and the worst built. 
This town of 30,000 inhabitants had not even yet got street- 
lamps, now to be found in the smallest villages, and on setting 



POITIERS AND DISTRICT 69 

out for home after a supper or the theatre every one had a 
lantern. The theatre was an old tennis-court, and the only 
remarkable features of the town were a fairly fine public 
promenade, called, I believe, Les Groix, a public drive which 
on holy days was the Longchamp of the town, and where as 
many as thirty or forty carriages could be counted, the Place 
Royale, and, finally, outside the suburbs, the pierre levee, a 
druidical altar which, on account of the tradition that Saint 
Radegonde had brought the table in her apron, had become 
sacred in the district. 

Nor did the suburbs compensate for the town's hideousness. 
They consisted of a large plain with fields of wheat and rye, 
and woods, placed haphazard, in addition to the worst little 
roads in the world. But these little roads led to a multitude 
of good big chateaux, some of them rather fine, which in 
summer made this sad country one of the most sociable and 
animated in the whole of France. I visited them a good deal. 

At this time, people of name and fortune did not consider 
themselves in exile in their little capitals, and ambition did not 
prompt them to leave the centres where they held a foremost 
place to come to Paris to seek equals or superiors. Each had 
territorial interests*, vassals, rank, offices, duties and pleasures, 
family, friends, and fortune. They lived and died there. Thus 
was formed the provincial spirit, and out of all the provincial 
spirits, the national mind, in which each retained its o^vn cha- 
racteristics. People were not French in the gross ; they were 
French in the quality of Poitevin, Breton, Burgundian, or 
Picardian, and as the spirit of patriotism increases in proportion 
as its circle is confined, there was much more of it to be found 
in the provinces, each of which had its customs, interests, govern- 
ment, glories, and private history, than in Paris, whose interests 
were scattered all over France. And what I say of Poitiers, 
which was the seat of but a poor seneschalship, was true with 
still more reason of parliament towns such as Rennes, Dijon, 
and Toulouse, where political power was concentrated, and with 
even still greater reason of state provinces such as Brittany, 
Burgundy, Languedoc, and Provence, where that power was 
great and weighed in the balance of the kingdom. 

At Poitiers and in Poitou, life therefore was pleasant. No 



70 BARON DE FRENILLY 

province in France, with the exception, perhaps, of Brittany, 
possessed a larger number of members of the good old nobility, 
faithful to the traditions of patriarchal hospitality. The majority 
of these noblemen were only moderately rich and some were 
even poor, but all, in proportion to their fortunes, lived nobly 
in their chateaux. The most important had town houses in 
addition. The La Tremouilles, the La Rochefoucaulds, and the 
Richelieus were at Court, but the Chasteigners, the Marconnays, 
the Pradels, the D'Aloignys, the Nieuils and many others — 
lieutenants-general and majors of cavalry, rich and esteemed — 
led an exceedingly honourable life at Poitiers, the manners and 
customs of which were consequently not those of a provincial 
town. Moreover, the nobility of Poitiers, through its names 
and fortunes, alliances and friendships, had relations with Paris, 
visiting it frequently and sometimes making prolonged stays 
there ; and hence it possessed that facility in living, that ease in 
tone and manners which made it identical with Parisian society 
and perfectly agreeable. As in Paris, its principal gathering 
was at supper-time ; and a person must have been very little 
known not to have the daily choice between two or three gather- 
ings of twenty-five to thirty guests — solid and refined suppers of 
an hour''s duration, followed by conversation and games. There 
was no question of returning home with cold hearts, empty 
minds and hollow stomachs. For forty years suppers were, in 
France, the heart and soul of the social spirit, and when they 
came to an end society ended also. 

The Intendant of Poitou was M. de Nanteuil, councillor to 
the Parliament of Paris and, like every intendant. Master of 
Requests.^ This was the first step in a career which consisted 
in rising from a small intendancy to one more important, with 
the brevet of a Councillor of State to crown it. Provided a 
man wished to be honest and act in good faith — and few had 
that desire — there was then nothing nobler and more honourable 
than an intendanfs life and position. He was the head man 
in his province — the king's man and the country's man at one 
and the same time. He set the fashion ; administered every- 
thing, governed everything ; and possessed the power of doing 

1 Antoine Francois Alexandre Boula de Nanteuil, Intendant of Poitiers 
from 1784 to 1790.— A. C. 



M. DE NANTEUIL 71 

infinite good or infinite evil. He was the prefect of three 
prefectures, with a stability and importance in family, fortune 
and rank, which are no longer found nowadays. An intendanfs 
career was the finest that a man who felt he had an aptitude 
for work and a love for the public good could choose. With 
these two qualities — then exceedingly rare — he was no longer 
shelved in the Council of State ; he had wings and could rise 
to anything. Did not M. Turgot, the small but excellent 
Intendant of Limoges, become Comptroller- General ? I need 
hardly say that, in the course of my dreams of the magistrature, 
I aspired to an intendancy, and had it not been for the Revolu- 
tion this wish of mine wovdd, thanks to friends and fortune, 
have been easily realised. I think I may add, too, without 
being accused of pride, that, with my sense of honour and 
administrative faculty, I should have made a very good inten- 
dant. M. de Nanteuil was the very opposite of this. He was 
the son-in-law of the famous M. Le Noir, Lieutenant of Police of 
Paris, a shamefully disreputable man who was never able to 
attain any other reputation than that of a third-rate Dubois. 
This alliance at once brought the son-in-law an intendancy, and 
Poitiers was chosen as a victim. M. de Nanteuil was the 
dullest and at the same time one of the \dlest of men I have 
known. Placing his duties in the hands of sub-delegates, he 
gave himself wholly up to pleasure. To such an extent was he 
a gambler that he had hardly any other furniture than back- 
gammon-tables or other guests than gamesters, to such an 
extent a rake that his feminine companions were composed 
exclusively of loose women, and to such an extent imbued with 
futility of mind that he despised the opinions and braved 
the contempt of others. Yet I was not his enemy. I was 
invited to his suppers and introduced into the houses of his 
shady friends ; for I was a good recruit. But this class of venal 
society soon disgusted me, so, without absolutely breaking with 
it, I held aloof, and retained with M. de Nanteuil only ordinary 
intercourse : the paying of polite visits, games at backgammon, 
and dinners which it would have been wrong to renounce, for 
the only man of real merit at the Intendanfs house was the 
cook. 

The Bishop"'s palace was quite the opposite of the Intendanfs, 



72 BARON DE FRENILLY 

as, indeed, was very natural — which however could not be said 
of all the bishops'" palaces in France. 

M. de Beaupoil de Sainte-Aulaire, a man of high quality and 
of the stuff of which bishops were made, was a little aged 
person with cold, dry manners, who kept a somewhat majestic 
salon where strict etiquette was observed, and gave severe dinners 
with covers for forty guests. That is all I am able to say, 
for these dinners were about the only link existing between the 
old Bishop and the twenty-year-old Parisian. The society in 
which I mixed was quite different.^ 

Mme. de Saint- Waast came of an honest, well-to-do, good 
old family of Poitiers. Whilst inhabiting the town, M. de 
Saint- Waast married her there and then brought her to Paris, 
where, later, his wealth, luxuriousness, and his post of Adminis- 
trator-General raised him to that pinnacle of the financial world 
which was then on an equality with the higher magistrature 
and the old nobility of Paris. 

Therefore, noblemen of Poitou who visited Paris gladly 
claimed Mme. de Saint- Waast — the mistress of a fine salon^ a 
large house, and a large fortune, who received them all as 
old friends — as an equal and a fellow citizen. On the other 
hand, when my father became Receiver-General and appeared 
for a month on the social horizon of Poitiers, he had been 
overwhelmed with dinners and attentions, and had left behind 
him the reputation of being a brilliant, amiable, witty man — 
as, indeed, he really was in the highest degree. This naturally 
opened to me all the doors in Poitiers. But my good uncle 
M. de Fauveau, the administrator of my post until I came of age 
— a loyal, virtuous, practical man who cared little for society 
splendour and intellectual pleasures — had insisted on my being 
kept tight in hand. So my debut was made in a financial 
society — necessarily second-rate, since it was of the provinces, 
and which, consequently, possessed by no means the good taste 
and good manners of the haute finance of Paris. Its members 
overwhelmed me with politeness, indigestion, and ennui^ as 
though I were a person of the first rank, destined to rise still 

1 Martial Louis Beaupoil de Sainte-Aulaire was sent as a deputy to 
the States-General by the clergy of the Seneschal's Court of Poitiers. — 
A. 0. 



THE BEAUREGARDS 73 

higher. To see men of fifty years of age pose as inferiors 
before a stripling of twenty disgusted me. 

In this class of society, in which the higher they strove to 
place me the lower I felt I was descending, there was, however, 
a simple, modest unambitious family which had remained a 
model of honour and of the ancient nobility. The Beauregard 
family consisted of an aged widow mother — simple, perfect 
in tone and manners, and as good as she was amiable — and 
three sons. The eldest, an ordinary sub-delegate, was, though 
rather brusque, the personification of probity, honour and 
frankness ; the second, amiable and devoted to my family, was 
a Directeur des Fermes in Paris ; and the third, an excellent 
ecclesiastic, became a long time afterwards Bishop of Orleans. 
The eldest of the Beauregards had been entrusted with my 
introduction into the society of Poitiers, and with selecting 
my place of residence, lackey, valet de chambre, tradesmen, 
&c. He found me a place in the Rue Neuve, opposite the 
fine house and large garden of Mme. de Saint- Waast's sister, a 
little devout old lady, and next door to a certain M. d'Arlus, 
the Receveur des Tabacs, the most delicate epicure and oldest 
dangler in Poitiers, the friend and emulator of M. de Nanteuil 
and perhaps his procurer. It was he whom the honest and 
pure Beauregard had asked to keep an eye on my youth. 
But I avoided his suppers and went to eat the wing of a 
chicken at good Mme. Beauregard's. Her excellent son then 
began to introduce me into society. He began with the 
Intendant, and I have already stated with what success ; 
continued with the financiers, with the result mentioned ; and 
finished up with the nobility, in whose company I at once 
began to feel at home. 

I should be ungrateful if I did not try to recall, after a 
lapse of forty-eight years, some of the names and characteristics 
of these society people of Poitiers to whom I owed two very 
happy years. 

The first face which rises before me is that of the Mm-quise 
de Nieuil, the wife of the Commodore.^ She had two sons 

1 Poute, Marquis de Nieuil (1730-1806), who was Commodore and Inspector 
of the Koyal Corps of gunners, and, on January 1, 1792, Rear-Admiral, married 
Augustine Jeanne des Francs. — A. C. 



74 BARON DE FRENILLY 

and three daughters. The eldest was the son-in-law of M. 
de la Luzerne, then Minister of Marine. One of her 
daughters was the Marquise de Vennevelle, whom I never 
knew ; the second, Mile, de Vignolles, a good, sAveet girl who 
wished to take the veil, because Comtesse de Brouilhac ; and 
the last, Agathe, terribly ugly and thin but sparkling with 
wit and originality, married Comte de Milon. Mme. de 
Nieuil had herself a great deal of ready wit, but was full 
of caprices which she called nervousness, besides being stone 
deaf, though she would not admit it. She guessed your 
replies by the movement of your lips, and if she missed them 
put another question. 

Mme. de Marsillac was a Maupoix, a fine tall woman of 
thirty, not pretty but the possessor of two large black eyes 
full of expression. Her husband, Comte de Marsillac, was a 
small, slender and elegant man, full of grace and urbanity. 
Forty years later I met him again in Paris — a widower, old, 
ruined by the emigration, and he took as much pleasure in 
spending his evenings at my house as I had formerly done at 
his. 

The Marconnay family was infinite. At its head was an 
aged mother, who, squandering her little fortune over suppers 
and card-games, received the best society of Poitiers in a most 
wretched house. Then came her three sons. The eldest, a 
tall, handsome man with haughty manners, married Mile. 
Titon, the daughter of the most clearly proved knave of the 
Grand-Chambre. Poor Mme. de Marconnay ! I can still 
see her : young, slender, beautiful, fresh, though a little too 
dark, with her large black eyes and her slight moustache ; as 
naive as a child, taking an interest in everything, loving 
everything, and smiling at all things. This little planet did 
not lack satellites, and, judging by the husband"'s cold awk- 
wardness and the lady''s moustache, it is to be feared she did 
not lack consolers. It is said that she has since found them 
in London, where, owing to the emigration, every one has had 
to find a profession. 

Stout President de Chassenon was Honorary President 
of the Nantes Court of Accounts, a man exceedingly rich 
and miserly, who would have made an excellent model for 



LADIES OF POITIERS 75 

Moliere. He used to transform his daughter'^s old skirts into 
dressing gowns by fixing the waistbands round his neck. 

Irland de Bazoges, the President of Poitiers, was a very 
good fellow of some thirty-five years of age ; a good husband, 
tall and well made. I do not say that he was elegant, 
because as a matter of fact he was exceedingly awkward and 
inclined to stand on his provincial dignity. His little wife 
was ugly, but possessed such an open look, such frank gaiety, 
so equable and sweet a temper, that she pleased me better than 
all the other women of Poitiers. 

Mme. de Vigier was a hideous stout old woman, dressed 
like a fifth-rate cook. But her house was admirable, and she 
herself, in spite of all her drawbacks, the best, politest, kindest 
and most reverential person in the world. She was noted for 
her truffled turkeys and gaming-tables. Of her two 
daughters, the elder — ugly, though tall and well made — was 
supportable, but the younger was the image of her mother 
and the terror of guests. The best person of the household 
and the one least in evidence was the father, a man of wit and 
intelligence — a financier and the only one, I believe, who 
assembled at his house the whole of the fashionable world of 
Poitiers. 

Next to this family comes the handsome Comtesse de 
Moisin, the most beautiful of beautiful women, but not one of 
those whom I should have worshipped. She was a Minerva 
of tAventy-five who had fallen from Olympus into the posses- 
sion of a short, stout, awkward husband, who was ever laugh- 
ing and complaining that his Avife adored him. 

Then there was the rather insignificant Marquise d'Asnieres, 
with her still more insignificant husband, a son of twenty 
who was even more insignificant than they were, and a 
daughter of eighteen Avho signified a good deal. I observed 
that when I played cards at their house I invariably lost. It 
was then the fashion to wear huge plain w^ell-polished buttons 
and mine, which were certainly not the smallest, reflected my 
cards. They were considered, therefore, to be in very good 
taste. One day I changed them for others covered with 
stuff, but this new fashion did not have such a success. 

In a very fine and elegant house which they had just 



76 BARON DE FRENILLY 

purchased lived the good Marquise de Chasteigner and her 
fifty-year-old husband, the best and simplest of men, decorated 
with the red ribbon of the order of Saint Louis and venerated 
by the people of Poitiers. They possessed a good name, a 
pretty house and a large fortune. Six years later the 
Revolution dragged the widow to the scaffold. 

The Marquise d'Aloigny de Rochefort — there is another of 
the distinguished names which were so plentiful at Poitiers ! 
She was a little hunchback, but not after the fashion of Mme. 
de Montbrun ; she was much less deformed and not anything 
like as pretty. But she had a bold and lively wit. Her 
husband was a big healthy fellow without ability. She was 
the intimate friend of the old Comtesse de Sommieres, whom 
I have a thousand reasons for not wishing to forget, but 
principally because she had a great affection for me and 
because I faithfully put into practice in her case that excellent 
precept sent to me by my mother : " Fall in love with all the 
old women." 

M. de Margerefs family was not a wealthy one. It occupied, 
however, a rather fine house with a large garden, and everything 
was on an honourable footing. It received many visits, paid 
few, and gave no great suppers. The husband was an old 
soldier who had been wounded, somewhat a humourist, but 
polite, very graceful, and with the manners of the fashionable 
world. His wife, who was some fifty years of age, was tall, 
frail and delicate ; a model of sweetness and goodness. She 
reminded me of some of my mother's characteristics, and was 
indeed, a mother to me. In fact, I could easily have fallen 
in love had she not had near her a counter-attraction : her 
niece, Mile. Amaranthe d'Esparts, a little flower of seventeen, 
fresher, whiter and pinker than all a poefs flowers. There 
was, however, a still more brilliant star than the charming 
Amaranthe — her inseparable friend Mile, de Pradel, whose 
beauty was more regular, figure more perfect, and elegance 
piu"er. The former was a Correggio ; the latter a Raphael. 

But shall I conclude this long review of the society of 
Poitiers without mentioning what occupied, amused, and 
interested me the most .'' Ten leagues from the capital, near 
the little town of Couhe-Verac was a vast Gothic chateau, with 



BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 77 

three large courtyards, flanked by towers and turrets and sus- 
pended, with its terrace, on the escarpment of a ravine. This 
feudal Chateau de Monts had belonged to the Vicomtesse de La 
Chastre, whose enormous husband created rather a sensation at 
the Constituent Assembly/ At her death the chateau passed 
to her son. Whoever has read the old story of Beauty 
and the Beast can form but an imperfect idea of this son's 
physiognomy. He had fallen in his childhood from the top 
of a staircase, and this had made him the most hideous 
monster it is possible to imagine. Yet he was Vicomte de La 
Chastre, aged twenty-five, exceedingly rich and, at bottom, 
the best fellow in the world. So they sought a wife for him 
and — stranger still — found one : a charming girl belonging to 
one of the best provincial families but possessing nothing save 
two sisters, canonesses, as poor and as charming as herself. 
When I made the acquaintance of these three Miles, de Turpin 
— Louise, Aglae, and Antoinette — they were in the flower of 
their youth and beauty. It was the eldest who, in order not 
to die a canoness, and so as to provide a home and husbands 
for her sisters, married poor La Chastre. But when there 
arose the question of anything else than seeing him once or 
twice a day, the poor girl cried treason and declared that she 
had not got married for that. The unfortunate viscount was 
deeply in love, vigorous, pure, and discontented at the fact ; 
his little wife was also virginal and quite ashamed at the 
thought that people suspected she had ceased to be so for his 
sake. This state of things lasted for some time, until, at last, 
owing to the counsels of some good dame or for some other 
reason, she really became Mme. de La Chastre, and transmitted 
that name to a child who escaped his father's face but not his 
mother's stature. 

1 Claude, Vicomte de La Chastre (1745-1824), Major General (1788) and 
Governor of Chatillon-sur-Indre, was sent to the States-General by the 
nobility of the Sen6chaussee of Poitiers. He signed the protestations of 
September 12 and 15, 1791, writing below his signature these words : "Love 
God and die for the King." He emigrated and commanded the Royal-Emigrant 
regiment, was employed by Louis XVIII. as a confidential agent to the 
Court of George IIL (1807), became the king's Minister-Plenipotentiary 
and Lieutenant-General (1814), peer and duke (1815), first Gentleman of the 
king's bedchamber, Minister of State, and member of the Privy Council 
(1816).— A. C. 



78 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Such was the society that charmed me when the viscount 
had gone out with his gun. I watched for those moments and 
seized upon them, and thus passed many happy days and 
beautiful moonlight evenings with the charming trio, either by 
their piano, or on the fine terrace, or in the woods of Monts. 

Thus did I spend two years in Poitiers. My good uncle 
De Saint- Waast marvelled at the taste I had acquired for the 
domanial science and predicted that I should occupy high 
administrative posts ; M. de Fauveau sometimes grumbled at 
my expenditure ; and my mother was very glad to see me the 
first in the provinces, and in the best society, instead of being 
the hundredth in Paris and goodness knows in what circle, for 
the dawning Revolution had already produced a strange 
confusion of ideas, ranks, and feelings. I arrived in Poitiers 
at the beginning of 1788, and therefore passed the terrible 
winter of 1789 there, but of which I recollect only balls 
ajcidi fetes. In the spring came the elections, and of these, 
also, I remember only the dinners and their president, the 
Due de Luxembourg. After the elections came the States- 
General, and then the taking of the Bastille, which cost me a 
louis, for there seemed to me to be as much likelihood of the 
moon being captured as that fortress. I began by denying the 
possibility of the thing, then backed up my opinion by a wager, 
and in losing learnt at an early period not to be astonished at 
any stupidity on the part of the Government. In consequence, 
I became a stronger aristocrat, which I have already said I was 
by nature, and this state of mind had by no means been 
weakened by my sojourn In the neighbourhood of the Vendee. 
The capture of the Bastille was followed by that astounding 
panic — an infernal invention, worthy of Laclos and other 
members of the Orleans council — which hovered over the 
country for a whole week. There was not a town, village, or 
house that did not await in terror an army which was to 
devastate the provinces, and in seven days this great fear suc- 
ceeded in disarming all the chateaux, emptying all the arsenals, 
and arming all the national guards. In a week, and free of 
charge, the Revolution had armed a million men. It was not 
less skilful in disbanding that of the King than in raising its 
own. The October days soon proved it. Thus things pro- 



RETURN TO PARIS 79 

gressed until the spring of 1790, when the whole of France 
was moved by the famous Champ de Mars Federation. This 
novel and prodigious sight at last tempted me to leave the 
pleasing idleness of Poitou. The good Marquis de Vitre 
gallantly lent me, without promissory note, two rolls of fifty 
louis ; I paid a few small debts — the only ones I had made in 
two years ; and, whilst my coachman, Ralph, took on my horses 
by short stages, set off to ride post in my elegant wisky, with my 
valet de chamhre as a courier. I left four days before July 14, 
1790, without having had time to write and sure that I should 
arrive before a letter. But though I travelled night and day 
I thought that I should never reach my destination. Horses 
were scarce at each stage, and the roads were crowded with 
national guards ; it was necessary to go slowly, and every now 
and then to give some exhausted fellow or other a lift. At 
last, on the eve of the famous day, I reached Paris — rather 
embarrassed, to tell the truth, for I feared my mother as much as 
I loved her, and I had arrived without either leave or a passport. 
I called, therefore, on Brejole, who I knew had returned to 
Paris some time before, and sent him to my mother as 
an ambassador. An hour later I was in her arms and in those 
of my sister. It was two years to the day since I had left them, 
and during that time great changes had taken place. My 
grandmother was dead, my mother had changed her residence, 
and my uncle's salon had inherited her soirees. M. de Saint- 
Waast was then more than eighty years old, and had become 
sad, phlegmatic and gouty. He saw that his post was in 
danger, and no longer had any hope of my filling it ; indeed, 
he hardly expected to die an administrator — a bitter thought 
to him. My mother's sweetness and my sister's brilliant gaiety 
had become his only consolation. 

I was present at the Federation — a ceremony that has been 
so often described that everybody is familiar with it. Two 
everlasting witnesses of it still remain : one, that circle of 
embankments raised in a week by the frenzied population of 
Paris ; the other, the imperishable Talleyrand, Bishop of 
Autun, revolutionary, emigre, beggar, millionaire, minister 
of the Directory, minister of Bonaparte, plenipotentiary of 
Louis XVIII. , chamberlain of Charles X., and minister of 



80 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Louis Philippe — steadfast during the whole of that long career 
which he began with infamy and which he will terminate with 
infamy. This little bishop, a dissolute and lame atheist, and 
gambler, was the only person that could be found to say th^t 
famous high mass in the open air, and which the heavens 
seemed to take a pleasure in drowning every five minutes by 
torrents of rain. Never before or since have I seen such a 
succession of downpours. So heavy were they that in a couple 
of minutes all the embankments were deserted. Ten minutes 
later the sun reappeared, the spectators mounted to their 
places again, but only to scamper away once more ten minutes 
afterwards. It was thus during the whole day, and the little 
bishop lost not a drop. Every opera-glass was pointed towards 
him, and his predicament proved a universal consolation, for he 
already enjoyed that fortune which has never deserted him — of 
being as much despised by his friends as by his enemies. 

A few days afterwards I went to see M. Guiraudet, Brejole's 
brother, and he said to me : " Well, youVe witnessed a failure. 
The Revolution has had a set back. The King has gained 
more than it has. It was a mistake. We shall have our work 
cut out." The poor man had been promoted to the rank of 
one of Mirabeau's assistants ; he was busy making proselytes, 
and was bursting with self-importance. To me, who knew 
nothing of Paris, his profound words were unintelligible. 

Paris, in fact, was the only city in France where a man of 
good family could rub shoulders with the Revolution and find 
it in a salon by his side. In provincial capitals, and especially 
at Foiii(;rs, there were but two classes: the nobility and the 
people. The latter lived on the former and walked in its 
footsteps. If Jacobins existed, they were obscure and timid, 
and could not have made themselves heard in the salons, 
where a horror of the Revolution and a transcendent aris- 
tocracy reigned supreme. Such was the topmost grade of 
society ; consequently, such was also the second rank, for self- 
esteem and pride rule everything, and the Receveur Particulier, 
the Director of Domaines, and the Judge of the Seneschal's 
Court would have thought they were degrading themselves and 
descending to the level of their shoemakers had they not 
spoken and thought like the Nieuils, the D'Aloignys, or the 



THE DEPUTIES AND S0CIETY81 

Chasteigners. One may be quite certain that if the States- 
General had met in a provincial town, the Revolution — that 
is to say, the tempest which completed it — would not have 
occurred. 

But Paris was the antipodes of what I have just described. 
Paris saw Versailles at too short a distance not to belittle it, 
and among those who frequented the Court — and they 
belonged to the highest ranks — were discontents, ungrateful 
persons and the ambitious, who were censurers and even enemies 
of Versailles. 

Thus, then, were the seeds of the Revolution already sown 
in the salons. The Parliament, which thrust itself into 
fashionable circles, brought with it the conceit, clamour and 
turbulent pride of the Enquetes — and there was the second 
sowing ! Finally, the elections had gathered from the pro- 
vinces men who were eager for agitation and noise — all of 
them, moreover, men of name or fortune, bold and Avitty ; and 
these were welcomed and feted everywhere as the masters and 
arbiters of France. It sufficed to be a deputy to be sur- 
rounded, listened to and believed — to be quite a la mode. 
And where was this Pandora's box burst open ? In that city 
which I have shown was so deeply cankered — in that biting, 
mischief-making and ballad-making city which was the enemy 
of its masters, the vassal of the French Academy, and which 
required two years of butchery to purify it of Voltaire, 
Diderot and Rousseau. You can easily imagine, therefore, 
that the Revolution was fully at its ease in the salons ; strong 
in some, weak in others, but everywhere honourably received, 
because, instead of entering in sabots, as it would have done in 
the provinces, it wore dancing-shoes, its hair was curled, and 
it bore names which opened all doors. You may imagine, 
too, that even in the case of people of the strongest principles 
this daily intercourse with error or fair-faced baseness, often 
even eloquent, insensibly produced modifications, inocula- 
tions, and grafts, so that by the end of the year people were 
not what they were at the beginning. There were many 
shades of opinion — much pure white that had become pearl 
grey, much rose colour that was insensibly turning crimson ; 
and already it was becoming rare to find in Paris those clear, 

F 



82 BARON DE FRENILLY 

primitive colours which isolation had preserved unsullied in 
the provinces. 

Such was the phenomenon that astonished, even dismayed 
me. I must say, however, that my own family had remained 
faithful to the aristocratic spirit. Too far above the common 
herd to acquire new ideas and too far from the great to be 
affected by political hatred, it saw a danger of losing im- 
portant posts. I remember but one exception, that of poor 
Baron de Mackau. His charming wife was beloved by 
Mme. Elizabeth, his venerable mother was under-governess to 
the children of the King of France, and he professed a Jacobinism 
adorned with Court airs ! Our neighbour Semonville ^ got hold 
of me and took me to the famous progagandist club. I went to 
hear the speeches three times, but came away disgusted and never 
returned. Let me tell everything : I had even to stand a few 
fights with my mother and sister. My adorable mother felt 
for the dawn of the Revolution that indulgence which she had 
for everything and everybody. " It is a child,"" she said, 
" that is committing many follies. But it will grow up to be 
a man." " Mother," I replied, " it will grow into a monster." 
She did not like my gloomy prognostications, for her tender, 
lively imagination ever sought to see things in the best light. 
Since the American War she had had a weakness for M. de 
ChoiseuPs " Gilles Cesar " — M. de Lafayette, the foolish, osten- 
tatious hero whom France, to her shame, twice raised towards 
the throne, the man who in a manner mitigated the horror of 
the Revolution by making the ridiculous predominate. She 
laughed with all her heart at seeing my hair stand on end 
when I perceived his bust in our salon. This bust, this name, 
this man formed a little subject over which to quarrel, but in 
such a manner as merely to give vivacity to the conversation. 
I recollect that my mother had had given her a very fine large 
dog which apparently had not been christened, since she was 
thinking of what to call it. She wondered whether she ought 
to name it Brutus, in order to make friends among the rabble 
of the quarter which she much feared, or Motier.^ She gave 

1 Charles Louis Huguet, Baron de Semonville (1759-1839), Councillor to 
Parliament, Senator in 1805, and peer in 1814. — A. C. 

2 Motier, the name of the Auvergne family from which the Lords of La- 
fayette descended. — A. 0. 



THE HOTEL DE JONZAC 83 

dinners to certain old friends — all of them, I must do them 
the justice of saying, excellent, pure-minded men, and for that 
very reason susceptible to brilliant and virtuous illusions ; men 
with the most honest hearts and most erroneous minds I have 
ever known. The most ardent of these purblind guests was 
Melon — excellent Melon, the warmest, purest, sincerest-hearted 
of men — the most devoted friend that ever loved the Revolu- 
tion, who regretted it and killed himself when blood began to 
flow. 

Five weeks after my return, an attack of apoplexy spared 
M. de Saint- Waast the sorrow of seeing his post suppressed 
and his endowments confiscated.^ His large fortune was 
divided between his widow and niece. My mother\s share 
consisted of the capital of the post of Administrator-General, 
amounting to 1,500,000 or 1,600,000 francs, an income of 
30,000 francs from the Paris Hotel de Ville, and the Hotel 
de Jonzac, for which she was then offered 500,000 francs. 
This, added to money owing, made a total of about 
3,000,000. 

I must say a few words of explanation in regard to the 
Hotel de Jonzac. Paris then possessed but four houses which, 
in addition to large gardens, had an extensive and magnificent 
view of the Tuileries, the Seine and the quays. The first was 
the Hotel de Boulogne, the second M. de Saint- Waast's house, 
the third the Hotel de Jonzac, and the fourth the Hotel de 
Noailles. The last named was an immense place ; that of 
M. de Saint-Waast, exceedingly beautiful but high and 
narrow ; and I preferred the Hotel de Jonzac to the Hotel de 
Boulogne. I regarded it, indeed, as the most agreeable house 
in Paris. It was composed of a large and small house, two 
courtyards, stables for twelve horses, and everything else in 
keeping ; and this in the centre of Paris, only a few steps from 
the Palais Royal. It had been occupied by President Henault ; 
and M. de Saint-Waast, whose walls adjoined, had since bought 
it from the Marquis de Jonzac. I was passionately fond of it, 
yet I strongly urged my mother to accept the enormous price 
offered to her. A hundred thousand ecus were sufficient to 
enable one to choose a new house from amongst the most 

1 According to Delahante (vol. ii. p. 216) he died in August 1790. — A. C. 



84 BARON DE FRENILLY 

beautiful in Paris. But sentiment intervened, so my good 
mother decided that we should inhabit it. A few repairs 
being necessary, the most honest architect in Paris, M. Dumont, 
who had built Mme. de Saint- Waasfs house, was given carte 
blanche to carrry them out. Every week he presented his 
account, which my mother immediately paid. Weeks dragged 
into months and months into years, and this inexhaustible 
spring was still flowing when August 10, 1792, overthrew 
house, plans and fortune. Up to that time the Hotel de 
Jonzac had cost a little more than 200,000 francs, for, since 
the more one has the more one wants, and the more one 
repairs the more repairs there are to do, the small hotel had 
been entirely rebuilt, whilst all the vaults and ceilings of the 
larger had been underpinned. 

On returning to Paris I found that I was in almost the same 
position as when I left : I knew hardly anybody outside my 
own family. The distinguished role that I had played in the 
provinces for two years had strengthened my legs, taken the 
stiffness out of my arms and broadened my chest. But I 
found society little disposed to credit me with successes on 
that score. There were but two means of shining : one by 
attacking the throne, the other by defending it. But I had 
neither a rostrum, nor sufficient experience or talent to enable 
me to take my stand in the breach. As to the gazettes, I 
already felt towards them that radical hatred which I still 
retain. My sole political work was a letter to M. Necker, 
who, recalled in the summer of 1788, had found, on the one 
hand, a hostile but humiliated court ; and, on the other, a 
nation which in its enthusiasm opened its heart and purse to 
him. Never had more glory descended on a swelled head. 
During this triumph he showed a patronising attachment for 
the King, a presumptuous zeal for the public good, and superb 
self-confidence. He opened a loan, and from the drained 
kingdom flowed rivers of gold ; a semblance of prosperity 
returned ; and the debt increased. He stretched his hand 
over politics and the question of the double representation of 
the third estate resulted in a triumph for him. Three com- 
mittees, composed of the most notable men in France and 
presided over by Monsieur, the Comte d'Artois, and the 



N E C K E R 85 

Prince de Conde, considered the question. The last two were 
almost unanimously in favour of maintaining the old constitu- 
tion of the States-General, with equal representation for each 
order and deliberation by chamber. The first, however, allowed 
itself to be influenced by the philosophism of Monsieur — that 
vain, false and superficial prince who made himself popular 
through self-love ; it voted, therefore, for the double repre- 
sentation of the commonalty : and on this nn'nority M. Necker 
succeeded in basing a law. In July 1789 he was again dis- 
graced. Twenty-four hours afterwards the whole of Paris 
wore green ribbons, the colour of his livery, and three days 
later the people, finding that this was also the Comte d'Artois' 
colour, trampled it under foot and adopted the tricoloured 
cockade. A week afterwards, Necker, yielding to the King's 
supplications, re-entered in triumph on the ruins of the Bastille. 
But this was the last glory of his reign. The aura popularis 
passed to the States- General, and the heroes of the day were 
Lafayette, Mirabeau and Bailly. 

M. Necker, once more a well-lodged and well-paid cashier, 
wanted to govern again, but no longer found instruments with 
which to do it. He gave advice to the Assembly and had it 
received with polite ennui ; he tried to give it lessons and had 
them received with haughty impatience ; he threatened to 
resign and was left to do so ; he handed in his resignation and 
was allowed to leave ; nobody noticed that he had gone. This 
was the period to which I referred above. This banker — as 
repentant as a self-conceited person, a Genevese and a 
Calvinist can be — had tried to arrest the torrent which he 
had let loose ; and honest people who had blamed him began 
to regret it. I was among them, and so I wrote my letter. 
It produced rather a sensation and brought me the thanks of 
the superb Necker couple, a few jokes from their daughter who 
was already beginning to use her wings, and the approbation 
of my mother who ever kept a place in her heart, between 
her hero M. de Lafayette and her saint M. Bailly, for 
M. Necker. 

Since I have just mentioned the name of M. Bailly, let me 
say a few words about him. Everybody is acquainted with his 
characteristic nose and his long, noble face. A Member of the 



86 BARON DE FRENELLY 

Academy of Sciences, and rightly so, for he was a savant of the 
first order — a Member of the French Academy, and again with 
justice, for he was a writer of great talent, he veiled this double 
honour with a gentle, serene modesty, an absolutely unaffected 
simplicity. When in a drawing-room he was merely a man of 
affectionate good manners, unpretentious, never disputatious, 
full of pure sentiments and noble inspirations — a splendid 
model of virtue, honour and true philosophy. He had neither 
enviers nor enemies. When the States-General came, this man 
who asked for nothing was overwhelmed with votes, and when 
it was necessary to appoint a Mayor of Paris he again received 
them. That day of triumph, however, was his ruin. His 
modesty capitulated, he thought himself a great man, and he 
became ridiculous. Dignus imperii si non imperasset. Heaven 
had granted him a wife who was exactly proportioned to his 
little entresol in the Louvre : a good housekeeper and nurse 
who adored him, a talkative, common, ignorant, stupid woman, 
but tender and devoted, as is necessary, in fact, for an Acade- 
mician. Behold her, through a stroke of the wand, seated in 
an immense gilded salon thronged with citizens and courtiers, 
and you may imagine what a powerful auxiliary she was 
to the sarcasms which were already showering on her poor 
husband. 

I met again in Paris three companions of my childhood who 
had remained friends of my youth. One was D'Orcy, of whom 
I have often spoken, and with whom I had remained in corre- 
spondence. He had grown up to be a man of merit, without 
any other passion than that of study and a taste for collecting 
beetles. He was worth a hundred of us, but was terribly 
wearisome — a quality which had led to him being placed on 
my sister's list of rejected suitors. Alas ! the poor fellow died 
a year later, wifeless and through the fault of a mistress. 

The second friend, and the only one of the three still living, 
was the youngest of the four Montbreton brothers, Norvins, 
who had twenty times more intellect than his three brothers 
put together, and ten times less judgment than a linnet. His 
little, squinting, deep-set eyes gave him a sinister countenance ; 
but he was the best companion, the most constantly and most 
originally gay being you can imagine, the life of society and 



A PARISIAN BEAUTY 87 

the soul of conversation. Poor Norvins ! What talent and 
money he has wasted ! What friends he has made and lost ! 
What kindness has been showered upon him, and what trouble 
he has taken to dishonour himself! But when one is deter- 
mined, one succeeds, and only in that respect has he shown 
perseverance. 

My third friend was D'Alency — that poor D'Alency who died 
so young, and whom I mourned so long ; a warm, frank, sincere 
friend. He was a grandson of that old M. d'Aucour, who, 
after being a mediocre author, became a Farmer- General and 
Receiver-General, thanks to having married a cousin of Mme. 
de Pompadour.^ The whole family lived in the Rue Vivienne 
opposite my mother's house, and as that street was then but 
a beautiful, solitary blind alley we could converse with each 
other from the windows. 

On the first floor of a house that was also opposite ours lived 
Mme. de Lessart, whose son, a man of justly recognised merit, 
unfortunately became a minister and was massacred at Versailles 
two years later. He was seldom seen at his mother''s. On the 
other hand, you saw a good deal of the famous Mme. Grant, 
then his mistress — a celestial beauty and long after recognised 
as such. She was at that time in the radiance of youth, with 
incomparable teeth, a transparent whiteness, and a mass of fair 
hair such as was to be seen nowhere. She was, however, stupid 
to the point of silliness, and, so as to win over Mme. de Lessart 
and not lose her son, pretended to be prudish. I recollect that 
this vestal found me too young to venture on conversation. 
Two years later she found me sufficiently old to pay me a visit 
at my lake-side cottage. She had a delightful apartment in 
the Rue d'Artois, a charming carriage, but no horses. As I 
owned some very pretty white ones, we put everything together 
— and away we went. She was a good woman at bottom — la 
belle et la hite at one and the same time. When she became, 
a long time afterwards, Princesse de Talleyrand, she was still 
both one and the other, but I avoided seeing her again, 

1 Cf. his Memorial, published by Lauzac de Laborie in three volumes 
(1896-1897).— A. C, 

2 D'Aucour is especially mentioned in eighteenth century memoirs on 
account of his licentious poetry. — A. C, 



88 BARON DE FRENILLY 

owing to disgust for the husband prevailing over recollections 
of the lady.^ 

The floor above Mme. de Lessart was occupied by a lady 
whom it would be ungrateful not to mention, for I sincerely 
loved her and she returned my love. And here I write with- 
out malice, or modesty, or reticence. My love was of the 
nature of a tender friendship. Perhaps she had a deeper 
feeling for me, but I took no advantage of it. To possess a 
woman who is the mother of three children, who is happy and 
esteemed in her household — to profit by a slight weakness and 
seduce her, destroying the peace of her home, and introducing 
a bastard into her family, that is the work of a rake. Had I 
been in love I could not, perhaps, have answered for myself, 
but I was not, and I was an honest man. I may have caused 
her regret but not remorse. The lady was Mme. L'Empereur. 
She was not exactly pretty, but blooming, white, and fair, with 
an amiable, lively face. Her mind was in keeping with her face, 
and what particularly charmed me was her childish naivete, her 
inexhaustible gaiety and sweetness. I recollect that Mme. de 
Bon — jealous, not of me, but of those whom she suspected I 
loved — came to see my mother, looked through her quizzing- 
glass at this second-floor apartment, and led me, conversing the 
while, to an open window. There she entered on a comedy of 
pretty tricks, little graces, almost caresses. " How cross you 
are becoming ! You no longer love me, then ? What ! you 
do not even kiss me." And the traitress, who would willingly, 
perhaps, have strangled me, made me kiss her, in the hope 
that in the evening I should have a quarrel. 

Among my small circle of friends there was also good Mme. 
Le Senechal, whose house in the Rue du Temple, though out- 
side the boundaries of society, was nevertheless brilliant.^ It 
was frequented by Arnault, Florian, and Desfaucherets. The 
first, who has since become Arnault the Tragic, a little superior 

1 Catherine Noel WorlhSe (1762-1835), born in India, at Tranquebar, then 
a Danish colony, divorced from Georges Francois Grant, and married to 
Talleyrand, September 10, 1802. See the Mdmoires of Mme. de Eemusat, 
vol. ii. p. 183, those of Mme. de Chastenay, vol. ii. p. 52, and Remacle's 
Agents de Louis XVIIL, p. 103.— A. C. 

2 For further particulars concerning this family see Lacretelle's Les Bix 
anndes d'6preuves^ 1842, p. 112. — A. C. 



DESFAUCHERETS 89 

to Campistron, was then but a very good fellow, cheerful and 
lively, agreeable in feature and figure ; a patriot, too, full of 
good, honest feelings, but one of those who were beginning to 
forbear. In the case of Florian, you may well imagine he had 
never touched politics. Reader to the Due de Penthievre, and 
the oracle of his master's little court, which treated him almost 
as a friend ; full of little successes which had penetrated from 
the Hotel de Penthievre into society, forced the doors of the 
salons, and taken the Academy by storm ; burdened with 
laurels and receipts from Estelle, Numa, Goiizalve, and Galathee; 
and, finally, the spoilt child of the most brilliant circles, he 
was too much a man of sense to trouble himself over patriotic 
rubbish. His best writings were some little harlequinades, a 
few short stories, and several pretty fables. Desfaucherets was 
a tall, handsome man, cold, and rather imposing in appearance ; 
the tjTant of the pleasures of Mme. Le Senechal's circle, with 
pride oozing from every pore. He had just produced his very 
pretty comedy, Le Mariage Secret, a badly-\vritten but well- 
carried-out play, with a good dialogue, and which owed twenty 
performances to its merit, and sixty to that of Mole and Mile. 
Contat. Since then he has ^vritten several plays which were all 
hissed. This disgrace and that of not being able to make 
himself liked closed the doors of the Academy to him. He 
wished to be other than Nature had made him ; born heavy 
and solid, he aspired to be a butterfly ; born with a cold, dry 
temperament, he desired to be a boon companion, a man of joy 
and pleasure. I knew him well. He professed friendship for 
me, and I have never had reason to do anything else than 
praise him.^ 

Around my family there revolved a less transcendent sphere 
of society which had nothing to do with either the Academy or 
the young Titans who then rushed forward from all sides, 
especially from the bar, to outstrip, as sharpshooters, the 
progress of the Constituent Assembly. This society was the 
good and loyal financial aristocracy, still piously walled-in by 

1 Desfaucherets (1742-1808), member of the Directory of the department of 
Paris, administrator of hospitals, and censor at the Ministry of Police, wrote 
numerous plays, the best of which is Le Mariage Secret, which was performed 
at the Theatre Frangais in 1786 and long remained on the repertory.— A. C. 



90 BARON DE FRENILLY 

its ancient manners. In the forefront of this aristocracy were 
the members of the Parseval family. The father, mother, three 
sons, and three daughters, all remained, in the midst of the 
general disorder, constant examples of loyalty, honour, and 
patriarchal simplicity. The father, who was the personification 
of Christian virtue, had the good fortune to die before the 
Revolution. Two of his sons, Parseval and Frileuse, and 
two of his sons-in-law, Vernan and Delahante, were Farmers- 
General. Five years later the first three died on the scaffold, 
and after that widowhood, poverty, and misfortune scattered 
the family.^ 

My dear cousin Flore, daughter of M. de Fauveau, was 
fortunately less difficult to please as regards the choice of a 
husband than my sister. It is true that her excellent father, 
whilst giving me very wise lectures on my expenditure in 
Poitou, had less prudently controlled his own, so that when 
M. de Romeuf put in an appearance his fortune was rather 
impaired. M. de Romeuf was an Auvergnat and the eldest 
son of a charming father, a large landowner, who remained all 
his life in the little town of La Voulte, the father and king of 
his mountains. This numerous Romeuf family was remarkable 
for its beauty. Without mentioning the daughters, M. de 
Romeuf, who was himself a very agreeable and intelligent man, 
had three brothers, two of whom were models of manhood. A 
certain celebrity is attached to their name owing to their 
misfortune in having had M. de Lafayette, the owner of the 
estate of Chavaniac, as a neighbour. The hero of the two 
worlds stirred the imagination of these two good young men, 
and, on becoming Commander of the National Guard of Paris, 
he appointed them as his aides-de-camp. Both were men of 
virtue and honour, in no sense revolutionaries, as was proved 
by their rejecting the principle of the equality of division 
and preserving all the rights of their elder brother. Their 
success in Paris and at Court was brilliant. Lafayette dis- 
honoured the elder, Louis, by sending him in pursuit of the 
fugitive king. He dare not refuse to obey. Under Bonaparte 
he became an excellent soldier, and died a colonel at the Battle 

1 Further details concerning the Parsevals will be found in Adrien Dela- 
hante's Unefamille de finance au XVIII g. siecle, vol. ii, chap, v-vii. — A. C. 



AN APPARENT TRUCE 91 

of Moskva. The younger brother, Alexandre, ended an 
honourable career in 1830, when, in order not to serve the 
cause of the usurper, he retired with the rank of lieutenant- 
general. Such was the family into which our dear Flore, then 
in the flower of her beauty, entered in the winter of 1791. In 
the following spring she left Paris, glad to exchange dress and 
balls for the simple life of a little town in the mountains 
of Auvergne. 

Here we are, then, in the spring of 1791. At that time it 
was curious and instructive to observe the state of Paris and 
France. A sort of halt or truce appeared to have taken place 
in the Revolution. It was hardly to be recognised by any 
other sign than the tricoloured cockade, and even then fashion 
or the aristocracy had modified it in a hundred ways, and a host 
of hats no longer wore it. Certainly no one yet dreamed of the 
reign of savages. The republican institution, which was 
beginning to ferment in certain over-excited brains, was but an 
indefinite theory, without echo. The transmission of the crown 
to the Orleans branch was the only substantial point in the 
revolutionary programme, the only reality that one could grasp 
in the midst of the chaos ; and this reality, enveloped in 
mystery, was even then only visible to the trained eye. It needed 
trouble but also calm, to ripen and burst forth. Ever\i;hing 
was apparently peaceful ; universal destruction was being 
carried out legally ; and disorder, without encountering any 
resistance, was being organised in an orderly manner. The 
public debt had been absorbed by assignats, which though 
they abounded, had yet depreciated little and made business 
extraordinarily brisk. Commercial prosperity was at its height, 
and the mass of citizens said : " AlPs well ! The Revolution is 
over ; let us enjoy ourselves and rest."" On the other hand, the 
Constituent, left behind by the leaders of the Jacobins, began 
to regret some of its acts and slacken its pace. The mass of 
the population was inactive ; agitation existed only in the silence 
of the Palais Royal, and amidst the uproar of the clubs. A 
foreigner might have thought that France was the most 
peaceable country in Europe, and perhaps he would not have 
been wrong had it been possible for Henry IV. or Louis XIV. 
to awaken in the bed of Louis XVI. ; for I have ever had little 



92 BARON DE FRENILLY 

faith in the power of events, and a good deal in that of the 
man who directed them. 

I profited by this period of calm to make a journey, not 
merely on pleasure but on business. As it was I who now 
looked after my mother's fortune, I went to visit our property 
in Touraine and elsewhere, in order to see with my own eyes 
what it brought in. And at the same time I seized the 
opportunity of calling upon our old friends at Poitiers. 

But let me attempt to recall the principal episodes of my 
journey. On reaching Beaugency in my phaeton, drawn by 
two dapple-grey horses, driven by my faithful Ralph, I found 
that the place was in arms, with flags flying, drums beating, 
and the National Guards in full uniform. This was to celebrate 
the pastoral visit of that rascal the Abbe Gregoire, one of the 
firebrands of the Constituent, who from being Cure of Ember- 
menil had become Bishop of Blois. 

On the seventh day I reached the Chateau de Bois-Bonnard, 
between Tours and Les Ormes, a property that Mme. de Saint- 
Waast had just bought and where she had spent part of the 
summer. But of this big chateau and its ancient park a la 
fran^aise I recollect only the prunes, the sehecs and M. Barreau. 
The prunes were those of Tours, then made with those beau- 
tiful golden yellow plums, oval and pointed like a little pear, 
known as Sainte-Catherine plums, and which were grown at the 
village of that name, near the chateau, to which each vassal 
still brought a basketful. The sebecs were huge mushrooms of 
incomparable delicacy. As to M. Barreau, he could not be 
indifferent to me, and for this reason. A lawyer in the little 
town of Sainte-Maure-en-Touraine, he had settled down at 
Loches, where my mother had inherited a large, old house. 
Consulted on the subject of a lawsuit, he gradually became 
our titulary man of business. He had a certain reputation 
and during the Terror used it to protect us. 

I spent three months in Poitou, passing from chateau to 
chateau. At Poitiers, Comte de Lambertye lent me a rather 
pretty one-storied house. It was much too big for me, and I 
had little use for the offices and kitchens. My luncheon and 
dinner were sent me by the illustrious Sichere. Ungrateful 
man that I am ! I forgot to mention his name in the account 



A PERFECT COOK 93 

of my first sojoiirn at Poitiers. M. Sichere was at once a very 
honest man, a great aristocrat and a perfect cook. He was 
dear to me because of those three quahties — dear in one 
sense only, for you have no idea how Httle it cost in Poitiers 
to surfeit yourself on Perigord truffles, green oysters and red- 
legged partridges. These were the basis of his cooking, to 
which he added all the varieties and novelties of his inexhaus- 
tible imagination. Wishing one day to give a big dinner, I 
had only three words to say to Sichere : " Twenty-five people, 
excellent,"'"' and everything was perfect : silver, glass, linen, 
first service, second service, dessert, wines of all sorts, ices, 
coffee and liqueurs. Sichere acted as steward, hat under arm ; 
my two servants sufficed for the rest. 

Agathe de Nieuil had just married Comte de Milon. I 
spent a few days with them at their fine Jaulnay estate. 

I ought to have spoken first of all of Monts, its ogre and 
its three fairies, and it seems to me that it must have been 
my first pilgrimage, but I have no very clear recollections 
about either this place, where I had spent so many happy 
days, or the three months I passed in Poitou. Perhaps I had 
grown indifferent towards Monts. Yet I had brought from 
Paris four beautiful enamelled rings with a secret spring — the 
kind then called " dog-collars,"'"' owing to their large size. On 
the outside was to be seen a tress of four different shades of 
hair ; inside, on a false bottom, could be read the names 
Louise, Aglae, Antoinette, and Auguste. There was nothing 
embarrassing in this triple marriage, for it is much easier to 
marry three women than one of them. But the charming 
Antoinette wanted a marriage all to herself, and I was not 
quite of her opinion. 

I recollect my sojourn at Rigny more distinctly. There 
were several interesting things in the neighbourhood. The 
first was the royal Chateau de Thouars, with its guard-room 
and orangery, both worthy of Versailles. It belonged to the 
great La "Tremoille family, as old and illustrious as the 
monarchy. On the other side of Thouars and nearer Rigny 
was the Chateau de Oiron. It had belonged to Mme. de 
Montesan and everything there still savoured of the grand 
siccle. The little Marquise de Montbrun took me there to 



94 BARON DE FRENILLY 

dinner. I was impressed first of all by three immense avenues, 
formed by four rows of gigantic elms, which converged 
towards a huge half moon in front of the courtyards of the 
chateau. Then there were the magnificent gates, spacious 
courtyards, large out-houses, a fine chateau in the architecture 
of the Louis XIII. period overlooking large gardens, abundant 
waterworks, beautiful woods, and an immense stretch of 
country. The interior was hardly less imposing. As the 
occasion was a grand dinner, we found the master and mistress 
of the chateau in full dress and surrounded with a proper 
display of etiquette in their solemn and prodigiously high 
salons. As to the repast, there was a succession of thirty or 
forty courses and a profusion of superb fruit of all kinds. 
Such fruit I have seen nowhere except at my own place at 
Bourneville, and I write this in Bologna, where it is impossible 
to obtain fruit of any kind. Ah ! France is indeed the 
promised land of fruit ! 

I do not remember having seen at Oiron the son and heir 
of the noble pair who received us there. He was, I believe, 
with his regiment, and I did not get to know him until nine 
or ten years later, at the time when he was still living in his 
quality as a dead man, with a properly drawn up death 
certificate in his pocket. Captured at Quiberon as an emigre, 
shot and left for dead on the Champ d'Auray, where he was 
saved by some honest Bretons, he had returned under a false 
name to his Oiron estate, which the peasants had bought to 
give back to him. Awaiting the happier days when he could 
come to life again and possess his property, this dead man, at 
the time I knew him, was living at the Chateau de Fontpertuis, 
the property of Mme. de Bonvoust, near the Loire and 
Beaugency. He was a big, jovial, trivial fellow, full of 
substance and appetite, and with nothing about him resem- 
bling the hero of a novel. 

It was at the Chateau de Bigny that I heard of the King's 
flight. I was writing in my room, in the morning, when 
the Marquis de Montbrun opened the door and shouted : 
" The King has gone ! " I jumped to my feet. " Gone ? . . . 
How ? " " Escaped from France ! " We fell into each other's 
arms ; I was stifled with sobs ; I almost fainted in a delirium 



THE KING'S FLIGHT 95 

of joy. Poor folk that we were ! What would have resulted 
from success ? What was not to result from the disgrace ! 
But we foresaw nothing. We triumphed noisily and publicly ; 
and the Jacobins went about hanging their heads. Three 
days later the roles were reversed and the Revolution, which 
progressed only by fits and starts, owed to that imprudent 
journey one of its most important paroxysms. The event 
restored tone to the revolutionary party, importance to the 
Jacobins, and ascendency to the Orleans committee. The 
object was to depose the King and confer on the Due d'Orleans 
a regency, which, without difficulty, would have become a 
royalty. The moment was well chosen. The crown was not 
sufficiently weakened to be annihilated, but the King was 
sufficiently weak to lose it ; the Republic was not yet ripe but 
the time for usurpation was. Among the revolutionaries, 
however, some wished to keep honest Louis XVI. humiliated, 
restored by them, a docile instrument in their hands ; whilst 
others were already jumping over the royalty straight to the 
Republic. The Orleanist party failed, therefore, in this 
attempt, which would probably have been successful had its 
hero been sufficiently atrocious to know, like Richard III., how 
to retain public esteem. The enterprise having failed, it was 
too late for anybody else, and the party henceforth proceeded 
from error to error. The Constituent — worn out, repentant 
and almost retrograde — was then succeeded by the young 
Legislative Assembly, ardent and ungovernable. Every day it 
became easier to overthrow Louis, and more difficult to do so 
without overthrowing the crown. 

This abortive flight of the King Avas one of the main causes 
of the emigration. A few hot-headed people, a few ambitious 
intriguers, a few presumptuous fools exploited the honour, 
devotion, and bravery of the French nobility ; and, in the 
summer of 1791 we saw, in the course of two months, a thing 
that was perhaps unprecedented since the Crusades ; we saw that 
hydra, that most efficacious of allies of the Jacobins, grow and 
flourish. 

I saw this deplorable epidemic break out in the province of 
France that was the most thickly populated with nobles. It 
was not a sudden and general enthusiasm : a case of " Dieu le 



96 BARON DE FRENILLY 

veut " — " God ordains it."" Alas ! it was a plague, an afflic- 
tion, resignation to an inevitable scourge. I am unaware — and 
doubtless others, too — as to who were the first to start the 
movement in the province. Certainly they were people without 
fortune, as they were without headpiece. Won over by the 
promises of the principal leaders, they whispered their hopes 
and certainties to all around ; correspondence, orders, threats, 
enticements, and sarcasms from Coblenz were added to them ; 
and as soon as a few prominent noblemen had resigned themselves 
to crossing the frontier, as soon as the word "honour'' was applied 
to those who left, the word " egoism "" or " fear " to those who 
remained, the entire flock followed. They did not hasten towards 
glory ; they fled before dishonour. These noblemen, already 
despoiled of their names, titles, and feudal fortunes, and who had 
nothing more to preserve than their fields, chateaux, and families, 
left in despair families, chateaux, axvA. estates, in order to save them 
and their children from a stigma of shame. Such I saw them ; 
the loyal and unfortunate victims of ambitious intrigues. They 
arrived at Coblenz and received a cold reception ; they found 
there a number of little coteries and a ridiculous etiquette ; 
they offered their military services ; became stubborn, devoted 
themselves to the cause, and ruined themselves. Such was the 
emigration : a painful sacrifice followed by a loyal dupery. It 
alone, and not decrees, destroyed the nobility. 

This almost sudden defection of nearly everybody I knew at 
Poitiers, and the sad business and family combinations that pre- 
ceded it, saddened the end of my sojourn. As a diversion, I 
made a little journey in Lower Poitou, visiting properties that 
I had heard much praised. They were magnificent farms, 
situated a short distance from the sea, near Lu9on, in the midst 
of splendidly fertile plains ; where, in large enclosures, were 
raised the fine oxen of Lower Poitou and that race of black 
cobs which thence passed into Normandy to be crossed with a 
Norman breed and afterwards used as carriage horses in Paris. 
I slept at the house of a cure of the district ; and, as there 
was no coach-house, my carriage, a Poitiers cabriolet, had to be 
left in the street for the night. Now, anything with two 
wheels that was not a cart was such a curiosity in that part of 
the country that when I woke in the morning I found my 



SOJOURN AT LA VOULTE 97 

vehicle covered with all the children of the village, and being 
eagerly examined by a circle of parents. 

On returning to Poitiers I made ready for departure. It 
was no longer a question of travelling by easy stages ; the 
season was advancing and I was going to leave the plains. So 
the obliging Chevalier de Tryon, who, to his mother's great 
despair, had not yet emigrated, arranged with his brother to 
exchange my phaeton for a brougham suitable for riding post. 
Behold me, then, on the road from Angouleme to Limoges ; 
afterwards on that from Limoges to Clermont. I visited 
the Aubusson manufactories, and admired the summit of Puy- 
de-D6me, whose peaceful crater is skirted by the main road. 
Stopping at Clermont I met the Chevalier de Cuilhac, whom I 
had known at Poitiers, and during the next two days he took 
me on excursions in the district. On the third, early in the 
morning, I set off for La Voulte. 

My dear Flore, her husband, and brothers-in-law, who did 
not expect me until some days later, had gone to see some 
salmon-fishing a few leagues away. However, I received a 
most homely welcome at their hospitable house. The next day 
I went to meet them. I saw them descend the mountains on 
the backs of donkeys, and had the pleasure of embracing my 
second sister. She was enceinte with her first child. Her 
brother had come from Paris to spend the summer with her 
and I was to take him back. 

My two months' stay at La Voulte has remained the ideal 
of my life. What a charm there is in living free from all care 
and anxiety, surrounded by a family that loves you, and which 
you find ever the same — at meal-times, on excursions, and in 
company ! Those are the conditions under which I should 
like to end my life, under which I should have liked to have 
passed it ! 

At this time the hero of the two worlds, who was coming 
to end his days amidst the noble tranquillity of Chavaniac, was 
expected in Auvergne. Everybody in Clermont was on the 
move ; cooks, gun-smiths, furbishers, restorators, and tailors, in 
addition to the club poets and the municipal orators, had all 
been hard at work for the past week. Now, having gone to 
Clermont to meet my cousin De Fauveau's eldest sister, who was 

o 



98 BARON DE FRENILLY 

to spend the winter at La Voulte, and not knowing what to do 
whilst awaiting her arrival, I decided to set off for Riom and 
bring back some of its famous pies. So I ordered post-horses, 
and left early in the morning. When passing through 
Montferrand, a league from Clermont, I saw a huge crowd, 
and on asking for information found that the great man was 
expected to arrive that very day. In order not to meet him I 
doubled my pace, reached Riom in half an hour, and set off 
back to Clermont. Ever3rthing went well as far as Mont- 
ferrand, but on descending towards Clermont I found the road 
from one town to the other lined with troops and people. 
However, I continued to advance. But before I had gone 
more than a few yards I heard voices saying : " It's he ! ifs 
he ! "" Away I went like the wind. But the shouts outstripped 
me, and in a few minutes I was proceeding in the midst of a 
universal cry of " Long live Lafayette ! " On travelling a 
third of the way there were salvos of artillery ; the troops 
beat the general ; flags saluted ; and the municipality advanced 
on one side whilst the staff presented itself on the other. It 
was then absolutely necessary to stop. Lowering the carriage 
window, I asked the mayor what he desired. " Illustrious 
general," he replied. " Monsieur," I interjected, " I am not a 
general. For whom do you take me, and what do you desire ? " 
"We take you for whom you are — the illustrious general 
Lafayette." " Sir, I am not Lafayette." Whereupon a 
grenadier shouted : " No, he isn't ! " " Who is he then ? " 
bellowed the people. " An emigrant, a spy, a traitor, an 
aristocrat ? Hang him ! hang him ! " A volley of stones 
struck the carriage. My postillion did not wait for a second 
discharge ; he was off like an arrow, and in ten minutes I was 
at the gates of Clermont. To do them justice, I must add 
that the mayor brought me in the evening the apologies of the 
good people who had stoned me as a punishment for not being 
Lafayette. As a matter of fact, they were not altogether 
wrong — and in those good old times I saw honest men swing 
for less — for, at the first turn of my wheels along that triumphal 
route, I had found it an amusing joke to pull up the carriage 
windows, bury myself at the back of the vehicle, and cover my 
eyes with a handkerchief, like a modest hero who desired to 



VISIT TO LAFAYETTE 99 

avoid an ovation. The great man arrived the next day, and a 
week later I saw him at Chavaniac.^ The arms of the old 
Marquise de Chavaniac, on the door, had been replaced by a 
huge cap of liberty painted in red. I found Washington's 
Merry -andrew in a study strewn with seals and envelopes, and 
surrounded by ten secretaries, to whom he was dictating mes- 
sages to the whole of Europe. He consented to descend from 
this empyrean, greeted us, and even said a few words with 
majestic kindness. Alas ! his time was over. Two years had 
sufficed to wear him out, and two years later, had it not been 
for the Olmiitz prison, he would have followed Bailly to the 
scaffold, in the midst of the maledictions of those who had 
carried him in triumph. 

1 Lafayette arrived there on October 18, 1791. — A. C. 



CHAPTER V 

1792-1798 

The Hotel de Jonzac — The Manage — The Declaration of War — First 
defeats — The 20th of June — The 10th of August— Beginning of 
the Terror — Loches — Alligny — Cosne— Chenonceaus — Mme. Dupin — 
Journey to Paris — Executions — The 9th of Thermidor — The La Goys— 
Sojourn at Chartres — Ivry — Eeturn to Paris — Poverty — Defeat of 
the Faubourg Saint-Antoine — The Prulays — The Marcols — The 13th 
of Vendemiaire — The Directory — M. de Vinde and his family — The 
Academie des Chansons — The Lecouteulx du Molej^s — Nepomuc^ne 
Lemercier — Baron de Stael — Mme. de Brege — Mme. d'Esquelbecq — 
The Dillons and the Mallets — M. de Nervo — Play hissed at the Vaude- 
ville — Pauline de Noailles — The Babeuf trial — The Vignys — Magnan- 
ville — Talleyrand — Laborie — Mme. Tallien — Mme. de Beauharnais — 
The tailor Dasse — Retirement — Death of the author's mother. 

I BEACHED Paris in the course of January 1792. For a long 
time past the winter had never been so brilHant. One might 
have thought that people were accumulating joy to last them 
all the time they were about to sorrow. There was something 
prophetic in this surfeit of pleasures. We had the air of 
amusing ^ourselves out of foresight, like people who lay in a 
supply of food against famine. My mother even gave balls, 
for my sister was over twenty years of age. Both regretted : 
the one that she had given so much liberty, the other that she 
had so proudly used it. My mother was beginning to reproach 
herself with having lived so long in solitude and thus made her 
children too unfamiliar with society. She was right : a large 
fortune, great merit, beauty, wit, and talent are not in them- 
selves sujfficient to smooth one's way ; this capital must be 
invested if it is to bring anything in ; that is to say, it must be 
placed at its proper height to be seen, appreciated, and 

desired. 

100 



MME. DU BOCCAGE 101 

In the spring I went to live at the Hotel de Jonzac, not in 
order to enjoy my little palace, which was no more finished 
than the rest, but to hasten the completion of the work, my 
mother having decided to take possession of the house in the 
course of the summer. I bivouacked in a room on the second 
floor. But what a bivouac it was ; since, on opening my eyes 
in the morning, I saw from my bed for the first time that 
admirable view of the Tuileries gardens, the palace, the river 
and its magnificent quays ! What a fairy-land ! Alas ! it was 
a case of the land of Canaan and Moses over again. This 
pleasure was granted to me for only three months. At five 
o'clock in the morning I was standing in my dressing-gown 
opposite this Poussin-like landscape ; at six I was inspecting 
the workmen ; and at seven my pianoforte-master arrived. For 
at Poitiers I had had a violin-master, followed by a teacher of 
the clarionet ; and in Paris I had a pianoforte-master and a 
professor of singing. The last-named was the illustrious 
Soignet. When lessons were over and I had inspected the 
workmen, I descended into the garden, which was the only part 
of the hotel completed. I had my writing-case under one arm, 
books and papers under the other, and the key of my cottage in 
my pocket ; and when I had taken possession of that crypt, my 
luncheon alone had the right to interrupt my reveries. I 
received, however, other calls, and among them that of Mme. 
Du Boccage has remained fixed in my memory. I was lazily 
stretched on the moss, writing verses (I wrote a terrible lot 
then, some good, others bad, but all burnt now), when, at the 
other side of the lake, I saw a little door slowly open, a white 
figure close it and advance across the bridge towards my cottage. 
At nine o"'clock at night this visitor would have been regarded 
as a ghost ; at nine o'clock in the morning she was a sylph ; 
and, in fact, she was both — my illustrious neighbour, Mme. du 
Boccage, the authoress of the poem La Colombiade, then in the 
eighty-second year of her glory. She owned a pretty little 
house between the Hotel de Jonzac and the Hotel de Noailles, 
and half a century before had obtained from President Henault 
the use of a little door to go to the Tuileries by way of his 
garden, for we had a subterranean passage that communicated 
with the palace grounds. This permission had been confixmed 



102 BARON DE FRENILLY 

by my mother. This Egeria entered my grove, mirrored 
herself in my lake, and sat down in my cottage ; she praised 
my verses, face, and manners — for I appropriately recollected 
my mother's advice ; and then, with the swiftness of a stag, 
disappeared down the grotto leading to the Tuileries.^ 

A hundred yards or so from this peaceful spot, amidst the 
howling of the revolutionary tempest, the mines that were soon 
to destroy everything were being laid. Opposite the Hotel de 
Jonzac, on the other side of the Rue Saint Honore, was the 
Convent des Jacobins, the large garden of which covered the 
entire space stretching between the Rues des Petits Champs and 
Saint Honore, from Saint Roch to the Place Vendome. The 
convent and church, which had become the club's meeting- 
place, were in the centre. On the other side, between our 
garden and the Tuileries, was a sort of street, called the Cour 
du Manege, because at the end stood the Manege, or riding- 
school, of the palace of the Tuileries. This Manege — a place 
of tragic memory, where the Constituent had sat and where has 
since been enacted all the dramas and farces of the Revolution 
— had on the other side an exit on to a long, narrow path, 
called the Passage des Feuillants, which led at one end into 
the Tuileries gardens, and at the other to the Place Vendome. 
But the Cour du Manege was the only public means of com- 
munication with the Assembly, so that from noon until five 
o'clock, owing to vehicles, deputations, riots, and tumult, my 
place of solitude became uninhabitable. 

With the new Assembly, the Manege had assumed, for 
some months past, an entirely new character. Low-class 
revolutionaries had arrived — hot-headed, still unemployed, dis- 
contented to find the farce over, the curtain down, and only 
the work of their predecessors to support. The only great 
thing left for them to do was to destroy the throne, and to this 
task, as though it were the only one that could bring them a 
name, they applied themselves with heart and soul. A few 
members, however, entered the breach, with great energy and 
splendid devotion, to defend what principles still remained. 
These were Vaublanc, a loyal, strong-souled man, more than 

1 Mme. Fiquet du Boccage, nSe Marie Anne Lepage (1710-1802), published 
La Colomhiade^ a poem in ten cantos, in 1756. — A. C. 



LOUIS DECLARES WAR 103 

wise and moderate ; Becquey, good, generous, modest, coolly 
courageous and devoted without exaggeration ; and Pastoret, 
who was ever the faithful though cold defender of the good 
cause, without energy, or passion, or error, but with his foot 
firmly placed on the path of duty. These three men afterwards 
became my friends and I hope still continue to be so.^ 

1 am trying in vain to unravel and classify in my memory 
the events of that stormy period from January to August 10. 
The things I saw are swallowed up in the explosion that dis- 
persed everything. I can remember neither dates nor faces. I 
need records to assist my memory, but have none within reach. 

As far as I remember, it was at the beginning of spring 
that Louis XVI. went in solemn procession to the Manege to 
announce that he declared war on the Emperor of Germany.^ 
From the windows of the Hotel de Jonzac, which overlooked 
the Rue Saint Honore, we saw him pass. His train of atten- 
dants had become exceedingly modest. It seems to me that 
his coach had only six horses, and that instead of being accom- 
panied by the captain of the Guards and the first gentleman on 
duty, he alone occupied it. There were none of his old body- 
guards, who had long since been discharged ; no Cent Suisses, 
who had suffered the same fate ; no French Guards, for they 
had all been incorporated in other regiments ; and no Swiss 
Guards, whom they dared neither disband nor show. All that 
remained then was the Constitutional Guard, composed of 
excellent and wholly devoted men who, for the most part, had 
entered the service out of a sense of duty, but whom the 
Assembly, a few days later, discharged. The weak and good 
Louis XVI. acted on this occasion as he did on all others, as 
he did in accepting the Constitution and in sanctioning the 
spoliation of the clergy, that is, against his understanding and his 
conscience, and out of timid condescension for the wild beasts 
1 Vincent Marie Vienot, Comte deVaublanc (1756-1845), Deputy in 1791 and 
1795, Prefect under the Empire, Minister of the Interior under the Restoration, 
and one of the leaders of the " ultras," has left M6moires. Pierre Francois 
Becquey (1760-1849), a Deputy in 1791 and fi'om 1815 to 1830, was a Counsellor 
of State and Director of the Road-surveying department. Claude Emmanuel 
Joseph Pierre, Marquis de Pastoret (1755-1840), was Deputy in 1791, Peer in 
1814, and Chancellor in 1829.— A. C. 

2 Or rather on the King of Hungary, Francis II., who was not crowned 
Emperor of Germany until later. Louis declared war on April 20. — A. C. 



104 BARON DE FRENILLY 

who, since Varennes and the emigration, had inade themselves 
hoarse with shouting : " Austrian committee, plots with the 
Emperor, perfidious Court ! " 

War, then, was declared and three armies were improvised. 
The one on the Rhine was commanded by Luckner, formerly a 
rather valued commander of light troops ; that on the Scheldt, 
by Rochambeau ; and the third, on the frontiers of Champagne, 
by Lafayette, who, like Cincinnatus, had sacrificed his plough. 
But it was thirty years since a soldier had been under fire ; it 
would soon be three years since the regiments had shown their 
fidehty to the nation by betraying the King ; it was about the 
same time since the majority of the old officers had, by fair means 
or foul, abandoned their troops, and since then duty, obedience, 
and discipline were unknown in the army. It observed military 
laws, as the Calvinists do the religious law, but on the condition 
of understanding, examining, and discussing. 

Such armies were doomed to fall back in confusion before 
the first volley of artillery ; they were a danger only to them- 
selves. This was promptly proved by the massacre of Theobald 
Dillon at Lille, and by the shameful flight of his troops before 
a shot had been fired. The Jacobins did not miss the oppor- 
tunity of crying that the King was forming armies in order to 
see them destroyed. 

This text was amplified by members of the club from one 
end of France to the other ; it was roared from the legislative 
tribune, and commented upon by the newspapers ; it represented 
France as lost, her armies doomed to butchery, and the Austrians 
at the gates of Paris. It was on the basis of this text that the 
Jacobins and the Orleanists organised the disgusting bacchanalia 
of June 20, when we witnessed all the vilest, most drunken, 
dirtiest and most ragged people of the filthiest streets of Paris, 
file like conquerors, under the eyes of the King, wearing a red 
cap, through the apartments of the Tuileries, then turn back, 
without a shot being fired or a door closed to stop that torrent 
of mud. That day the Orleanists were deceived ; they counted 
on an armed defence in the interior of the palace, and imagined 
that the King and the Dauphin, like Romulus, would rise to 
heaven. The royal family's pusillanimous resignation, not 
devoid ^of majesty, forestalled that misfortune. It had at its 



THE 20th of JUNE 105 

disposal but a few gentlemen of the chamber (the remainder 
were at Coblenz) and a small number of National Guards who 
made their way through the crowd to group themselves around 
the King. The menials were hidden in the cellars ; the dis- 
banded Royal Guard was at the Military School ; whilst the 
Suisses — still tolerated — were at Rueil and Courbevoie, in bar- 
racks far from the capital, Louis XVI. took great care to be 
without defence ; he was studying, day and night, the life of 
Charles I., in order to follow just the reverse of that monarch's 
example. This abortive violence produced a reaction in Paris 
and throughout France. The addresses of the time witness to 
it, and had a strong-minded man been on the throne, the 
Revolution could have been crushed. On the following day 
the Revolutionaries made up for their discomfiture by praising 
the honour and probity of the good people of Paris ; for these 
low blackguards pretended that they made revolutions free of 
charge, murdered without interest, and plundered out of high- 
mindedness. They were the most honourable rabble in the 
world. However, their leaders began to mistrust them, so sent 
to Brittany and Marseilles for those picked brigands which 
have since succeeded in overthrowing the throne. The only 
victory gained by the Orleanists on June 20 was the comple- 
tion of the disgrace of Lafayette, who, utterly ridiculous and 
burlesque though he was, had acted the great man for three 
years past without once being hissed. On this occasion the 
poor hero wrote to the Assembly to threaten it, and to the 
King to offer him his army — not a soldier of which would have 
followed him. For him all was over, and a week later the 
Jacobins were shouting in Paris : " Down with Lafayette ! " 
without anybody contradicting them. 

No Federation had been seen since July 14, 1790, and the 
King had gained more ground than the Revolution. In 1792 
the state of affairs was quite changed. It is true that France 
had lost her revolutionary enthusiasm, and had she gone to the 
Champ de Mars, free and in a mass like two years before, the 
Jacobins would have sustained a great defeat. But during 
these two years the intriguers had made great progress in the 
art of leading the masses, who had reached that period of 
fatigue and repose when any revolution will inevitably fall into 



106 BARON DE FRENILLY 

the hands of a despot and be made to bear an oligarchical 
despotism instead of a monarchical one. France's dreams of 
liberty and equality also necessitated that, instead of feeling the 
spur of a conqueror, she should receive a thrashing from her 
valets, and, consequently, she who had so proudly revolted 
against the Bourbon yoke bore that of the Jacobins without 
complaining. You should have seen, as I saw in 1793 and 
1794, how the entire town and country population — good 
and simple peasants, shopkeepers, artisans and landowners — 
trembled before the arrogance of a few advocates who had 
formed themselves into a Popular Society. Never did vassals 
submit more humbly to vexations ; never did barons impose 
them with more haughtiness. This power exercised by a small 
number of clever and well-organised rascals was then the only 
real one. And one can easily conceive that when it wished to 
repair the blunders of June 20 it had but to make a general 
appeal to the most notorious scoundrels in each province. 
Brittany and Provence were preferred, the former furnishing 
the boldest men, the latter the most hot-headed. This idea 
of collecting in Paris a small army of scoundrels who would 
lead on the people, and serve as a forlorn hope, made the 
leaders determined to attempt a new Federation. A host of 
good citizens wrote from the provinces : " Take care, the main 
roads are infested with ruffians."" But what could one do ? 
Send back these warnings to the local authorities, entirely com- 
posed of their brothers and friends, who would reply, " They 
are the most honest men in France " ? 

Thus events progressed, and the horizon at last became so 
black that almost all the young men of family in Paris had 
spontaneously enrolled themselves in three or four battalions 
of the National Guard, the only ones on which the King could 
count. The best known — the one in which I served — was 
that of the Filles de Saint Thomas, commanded by poor 
Vernan, the Farmer-General ; ^ and our house in the Rue 
Vivienne, a few paces from headquarters, was, in case of alarm, 
the pre-arranged meeting-place for several young men who 

1 He married Victoire de Parseval, and died on the scaffold with two of his 
brothers-in-law. Delahante's U7ie famille de finayice, vol ii., pp. 357-360. — 
A. C. 



A CONFIDENT ARISTOCRACY 107 

there kept their uniforms and arms. When all these prepara- 
tions were made, we danced, took part in private theatricals, 
and enjoyed ourselves riotously in the country. Never, indeed, 
had we been more busy amusing oiu-selves. And do not mis- 
take me ; this time it was neither a case of ignorance nor 
thoughtlessness on our part ; we saw clearly enough, were on 
our guard, and prepared for every eventuality. But the feeling 
that filled us all was one of entire confidence, an extreme im- 
patience to deal the rabble a decisive blow, an eager desire that 
it would provoke it, and complete faith in victory. Many a 
time since have I meditated on this state of our minds and 
never have I come to the conclusion that we were exhibiting 
merely the temerity of youth. It was firmly based on calcula- 
tion. The King had at his disposal a sufficient number of 
troops to triumph without difficulty on that second 20 th of 
June. There were six thousand Swiss around Paris, his so- 
called disbanded guard at the Military School, and five to six 
thousand men of the National Guard. At the beating of a 
drum he would, in an hour, have had near him twelve thousand 
devoted men against a thousand ruffians from the provinces, 
followed by the cowardly and stupid rabble of Paris. The 
remainder of the capital and the kingdom was neutral. That 
is what Providence had given the King. We knew, however, 
that he would do nothing unless violence forced him, and we 
awaited that violence as his salvation and our own. Alas ! we 
did not remember that, notwithstanding ourselves, the Swiss, 
France and Providence, he alone sufficed to bring about his 
downfall. And this was what our enemies had calculated 
better than we. 

However, we continued to dance, as they do in camp on the 
eve of a battle ; and Paris gave herself up to games and 
pleasures. I had just put the finishing touches to a charming 
box-coat, designed by myself, and which for three months had 
occupied me hardly less than Leibnitz, Hobbes, Pascal and 
Grotius ; my grey horses went marvellously well with it — 
triumphed in the Bois de Boulogne, which was much frequented 
that year. We drove a good deal in the Ranelagh neighbour- 
hood, near La Muette, and, in its large avenue, admired, among 
other beauties, the three charming daughters of Hall, a rather 



108 BARON DE FRENILLY 

good miniature painter.^ They were aerial, picturesque, quite 
celestial creatures. The eldest, however, was a little less so 
than her sisters. She had just married a young man whom we 
all loved — Suleau, a man full of intelligence and courage, who 
dared to publish a monarchical journal that cost him dear. One 
evening, that of August 9, I had taken Adelaide, my beautiful 
cousin De Bon, to the Bois de Boulogne, and as we were to 
have supper at her house I had accompanied her home. She 
occupied the second floor of her mother''s house. When at 
table, laughing merrily, we suddenly heard the beating of the 
general. This signal, which we had been expecting daily, was 
greeted with a cry of joy. We seized our hats, rushed home 
to dress ourselves, and half an hour later the whole battalion 
was in arms on the Boulevard des Italiens. We marched 
noiselessly through the Rue de Grammont, Rue Saint Anne, 
Rue des Frondeurs, Rue de TEchelle and the courtyard of the 
Chateau stables, where part of the Rue de Rivoli is now situated, 
and entered the grand terrace of the Tuileries by the Pavilion 
de Marsan gate. Three other faithful battalions, including that 
of the Petits-Peres, were there before us. 

The gates were closed. Nothing was then easier than to 
defend the Tuileries against a sudden attack. On the Manege 
side, as on that of the river, there stretched for the entire length 
of the garden a wall whose only entrances were two small gates 
near the Chateau. As to the two narrow Passage des Feuillants 
and Passage de TOrangerie, they could have been adequately 
protected by a gabion and four men. On the Place Louis XV. 
side there was a deep moat, a veritable fortification that could 
only be crossed by the Pont Tournant, which did duty as a 
drawbridge. On the opposite side there was not, as now, the 
immense and empty Carrousel. From the wing which served 
for the flight of Henry III. to that of the Rue de Rivoli, this 
square, then infinitely smaller and more irregular, was separated 
from the Chateau by three courtyards, accompanied by out- 
buildings. The access was narrow and winding, whilst the 
walls of the three comrtyards still further increased the difficulty 

1 Pierre Adolphe Hall (1739-1794), a Swede, was, on coming to France, 
appointed painter to the royal family. He was known as the Vandyke of 
miniature-painting. — A. C. 



PETION 109 

of approach. Finally, after closing the Pont Royal, the 
Guichet de Marigny, much narrower than it is to-day, and the 
Passage Dauphin Gate, the only way of approaching the Chateau 
was by the narrow Rue Saint Nicaise or by the circuitous Rue 
de TEchelle. What treason on the one hand and stupidity on 
the other were necessary to lose that day ! 

I believe that it was about midnight when the four 
battalions were in battle array on the Chateau terrace. The 
night was long and silent. The waiting for a great event is 
ever accompanied by silence. The only thing I remember was 
the presence of Petion, whom I had not yet seen. This 
wretched advocate, who had but recently obtained the 
mayoralty of Paris by baseness, came to inspect the police of 
his city, or rather to reconnoitre the place occupied by the 
royal army and choose a spot for his own. He was a tall, 
fair man of insipid beauty, and with an air that was aiFectedly 
mild, cowardly, and knavish.^ When the Court, after 
June 20, closed the Tuileries, and the insolent Assembly 
authoritatively re-opened the gate of the Feuillants terrace, on 
the pretext that this terrace was a dependency of the Manege, 
he it was who, to give a derisive satisfaction to the Queen, 
imagined the anacreontic joke of stretching a tricoloiu-ed 
ribbon from the Grille de Marsan to the Passage des Feuil- 
lants, as a barrier which the sans-culottes in their magnanimity 
would not deign to pass. What made the leaders of those 
days so particularly odious to us was the fact that not a single 
one of them was either a Marius or a Cromwell ; all were 
vulgar pedants and cowards — nonentities who have remained 
such. I'his particular one, who had come on to the terrace 
as a conqueror, bought his triumph dearly, for, in spite of 
himself, he was made to pass four hours there in mortal 
anguish. As he was regarded merely as a spy with an official 
scarf, a dozen of our grenadiers surrounded him and honour- 
ably promenaded him about until daybreak, without giving 
him time to rest or see anything. Their company probably 

1 Potion was, in fact, what one would call a handsome man, and a pam- 
phleteer of 1793 recognises that "he has nothing to regret as regards physique," 
and that "his stature, face, mildness and urbanity prevail in his favour." — 
A. C. 



no BARON DE FRENILLY 

saved his life, for whilst they were walking up and down we 
were deliberating as to how to get rid of him, and I saw a 
score of guns, which would assuredly have been fired but for 
his escort, pointed in his direction. 

At dawn fresh battalions of the National Guard arrived on 
the quays and were distributed in more distant parts of the 
garden. This was as far as the foresight of the Court went. 
These troops ought to have been excluded from the enceinte as 
enemies, but they were admitted as defenders. Each battalion 
— like ourselves — had two pieces of cannon, and I recollect 
that one, in bravado, pointed them at us and the Chateau. 

At six o'clock in the morning, Louis XVI. came to pass us 
in review. What a discouraging review it was for men who 
merely asked for a master and a guide ! I can still see the 
unfortunate prince passing in front of us ; silent and careworn 
as he slouched along, and seeming to say : " All is lost ! " 
Well might the little group that surrounded him cry : " Gen- 
tlemen, long live the King ! " We had been ordered to 
observe silence when under arms and we obeyed when we 
ought to have disobeyed. As to the rebel battalions, the only 
cry they knew was that of " Long live the nation ! " Every one, 
then, was silent — the King and the army. Louis thought that 
he could see his condemnation in our silence, whilst we read 
his ruin in his. 

However, as the day progressed the uproar increased. All 
the tocsins of Paris were ringing, the people having taken 
possession of the steeples. A small body of Swiss arrived, 
but there ought to have been the whole six thousand, and 
when this became apparent an order to march was sent to 
them. Half way on their journey, however, they received a 
counter-order. The small body of Swiss then occupied the 
Cour de Marsan, whilst we were moved from the terrace to 
defend the two other courtyards. It was the Carrousel that 
ought to have been occupied, the small streets and the Guichet 
de Marigny that ought to have been blocked. But nothing 
of this was done. We remained — Swiss and French — im- 
prisoned in our courtyards, and the Chateau was left open to 
all comers. 

About ten o'clock in the morning there appeared that 



THE 10th of august 111 

hideous column which, after gathering at its ease in the 
Faubourgs Saint Antoine and Saint Marceau, had come, partly 
by way of the boulevards, partly by the quays, to assemble in 
the Rue Saint Honore, whence it rolled slowly forward like 
those torrents of lava that hardly seem to move but which sow 
destruction in their path. These wretches, armed with poor 
sabres and rusty swords, imagined, most of them, that they 
were going to take part in a second 20 th of June. But their 
leaders had another fete in store for them. This ragged army 
was allowed, therefore, to debouch freely by the Rue Saint 
Nicaise, to cover the bottom part and sides of the Carrousel, 
and to place its cannon in the centre of the square. 

Behold, then, thanks to treason and stupidity, two armies 
ranged in battle under the windows of the Tuileries and the 
throne ready to be the stake of a game at odd or even. For, 
if we were the braver, the people were the more numerous ; if 
we were held in and imprisoned by our commanders, they 
were pushed forward by theirs ; and these leaders, Bretons and 
inhabitants of Marseilles, would not hesitate to sacrifice two 
thousand men for every one who reached the Chateau. So we 
had read to us the martial law and the municipal order, 
certainly not to attack but to oppose force by force. On 
hearing this tardy order, our gunners abandoned their pieces, 
declaring that they would not fire on the people. A terrible 
tumult then ensued. I know not whether they were sabred or 
driven away, but our guns remained abandoned until the Swiss 
gunners came to serve them. Well, even at that apparently 
critical time, a king of spirit and intelligence, a king who for 
a moment woiild have believed in himself, instead of eternally 
believing in others, could still have been the master of that 
terrible day. He should have jumped on horseback, dashed 
along our ranks, electrified us by exhortations, thrown open 
the gates, and, instead of keeping us under lock and key to 
await the cannon shots, precipitated us with fixed bayonets on 
that disgusting army. A distance of less than seventy yards 
separated us. In two minutes oin: bayonets would have been 
in their breasts — in five they would have been dispersed. This 
is neither an exaggeration nor a boast ; for when, an hour later, 
the Swiss fired their first cannon shots, the people's terror was 



112 BARON DE FRENILLY 

such that the Carrousel was empty in the twinkling of an eye. 
They had all fled into the small streets adjoining, and if they 
returned it was because their leaders, who knew the extent of 
their courage, had posted at the ends of those thoroughfares 
small bodies of cavalry, which vigorously charged the fugitives 
and drove them back to the battle-field. If only the populace 
had been vanquished, France would have been reconquered. 
Two companies could have closed the Jacobins' club ; the King 
could have entered the Assembly as master ; the Municipality 
and the Sections could have been renewed ; the ringleaders 
arrested, and the National Guard disbanded. Twenty-four 
hours would have sufficed for these preliminary steps, and, by 
giving confidence to the masses, which only asked for a 
stronger man than themselves, would have allowed time for 
other measures to be taken. 

Instead of that, this is what happened. We trembled with 
rage behind our walls, which prevented us from even seeing the 
enemy, which, on the other hand, was encouraged by not seeing 
us ! Meanwhile, Roederer arrived at the Chateau — Roederer of 
sinister and hideous recollection, bringing with him that too 
famous advice to leave the Tuileries, in order to avoid a fresh 
20 th of June, and to go to the Assembly. Louis XVI. 
hesitated, but recollected Charles I. Charles had fought, but 
Louis gave way. Roederer's advice was followed, and so, in 
order not to have to fight a flock of sheep, we threw ourselves 
into the lion's den. We know that Roederer, unable to deny 
having given this advice, has always denied its intention. 
Louis XVI. left, then, for the Assembly, accompanied by a 
company of Swiss and by the light infantry of my regiment, 
which he held in particular affection. 

The Swiss, who were advancing by forced marches, were 
ordered to go back. The poor King had such a terrible fear of 
being unconstitutional that, on that day when his throne and 
life were at stake, he had not even summoned from the Military 
School the eighteen hundred men of his faithful guard who had 

1 Eoederer was, as he has said, sincerely convinced that! resistance was 
useless and would lead to much bloodshed, that the defenders of the Chateau 
were not sufficiently numerous, and that "their feelings were not well dis- 
posed." — A. C 



MASSACRES 113 

been unconstitutionally disbanded by the Assembly. So the 
sorrowful procession set off, silently descending the grand 
Escalier de THorloge, lined with Swiss troops whose old 
moustaches streamed with tears. The King and the Queen 
walked first. Madame Elizabeth followed between the two 
children. This was all that remained of that numerous family, 
and all, save one, were to perish ! Then came fifty attendants. 
Our two companies surrounded the group. Half way up the 
garden, twenty-four deputies advanced, as etiquette required, 
towards the King, who, as far as I can recollect, said to them ; 
" I proceed to the Assembly in order to spare my people a 
crime." Alas ! he had just smoothed the way for them ! He 
entered the Assembly by the Passage des Feuillants door. 
We remained at the bottom of the steps that descended from 
the terrace. We had not been there more than a quarter of 
an hour before we saw, advancing along the terrace, some 
sans-culottes armed with pikes, surmounted by what looked like 
red and black helmets. As they approached we discovered 
that the objects were five heads, which these savages had just 
cut off in the Cour des Feuillants. I recognised two of them. 
One was the head of M. de Vigier de Mirabel, a lifeguardsman 
whom I had known at Poitiers ; the other, that of the unfortunate 
Suleau.^ Members of a secret police that worked in the King's 
interest (and unknown to him), they had been surprised, at 
night, in the Champs-Elysees and imprisoned in the Feuillants 
guard-house, whence the savage band had dragged them. In 
writing these words I still feel the inexpressible feeling of 
horror that then penetrated me. The monsters roared with 
laughter, and lowered their execrable trophies towards us from 
the top of the terrace. Hardly had they passed than the first 
cannon-shots were heard from the direction of the Chateau — 
volleys which were followed by an interval of silence. This 
was the moment when the terrified populace evacuated the 
Carrousel. Shortly afterwards the cannonade recommenced, 
accompanied by a smart fire of muskets. This was the moment 
when the rabble, driven back by charges of cavalry, returned to 
the square from which it had fled, and whence it was fleeing 

1 Cf. Thiebault's Mdmoires, vol. i. p. 303, and the De Goncourts' La Sociiti 
fraiu^ise pendaiit la Involution, p, 265. — A. C. 

H 



114 BARON DE FRENILLY 

once more ! But the defenders of the Chateau, with the excep- 
tion of the Swiss, were in confusion in the courtyards, hindered 
by walls and doors, and did not know how or were unable 
to profit by their assailants'" flight and capture their cannon. 
These guns had a great advantage over ours. They could be 
fired at random against the entire front of the Chateau, the first 
floor of which, crowded with the King's friends and servants, 
was riddled with bullets ; whereas ours had to be pointed 
through the narrow openings of doors. However, in spite of 
the little effect they could have, all our shots reached their 
mark, whilst theirs merely damaged the Chateau stones and 
windows ; and it is more than probable that if the fight had 
lasted victory would have been ours. But the unfortunate 
King had to complete his ruin. A hostage in the Assembly, 
he did what, alas ! he would have done just the same had he 
been free — sent an order to his troops to cease firing and 
retreat. . . . Great God, retreat ! Where ? Into the 
Chateau to be massacred one by one, as so many others were ? 
Into the garden which ten minutes later was being ploughed 
up by the conquerors'' cannon ? The Feuillants terrace station 
being no longer tenable, we entered the Passage, so as not to 
be too far from the Royal Family, and remained there for three 
mortal hours, in the midst of the roar of artillery and the 
shouts of the Assembly which was voting the King"'s suspension. 
At last the order came to return to our homes. Everything 
was over — for us, for the King, and for France ! We dispersed ; 
for it would have been fatal to have let the intoxicated 
populace see a company or arms. Our coats saved us. Every 
redcoat was massacred. Wearing my blue coat and carrying 
my musket under my arm, I slowly made my way through the 
crowds of savage men, who ran hither and thither inciting to 
pillage and murder. I reached my mother's at six o''clock in 
the evening, worn out with sorrow and indignation. She had 
heard, seen, and knew nothing ; the monarchy had fallen with- 
out the Rue Vivienne being any the wiser. " Mother,''' said I, 
" we must leave Paris, which is about to become a place of 
carnage and persecution." Yielding to my entreaties, she 
consented to go to Loches, where I counted on Barreau''s 
influence and skill. 



TERROR UNIVERSAL lis 

In twenty-four hours the aspect of Paris had changed. Not 
a carriage was to be seen. If the noise of wheels were heard 
in the distance, you might be sure that it was a cab. Nobody 
dared to show himself to be rich, or to be superior to any one else. 
The city gates were closed. At night the red-capped members 
of the Sections made domiciliary visits — not here or there, but 
everywhere — in order to discover an emigre^ a defender of the 
King, or one of the escaped Swiss, for their massacre continued 
wherever they were found. Even the most honest artisans 
were seized with this incomprehensible frenzy for murder. 
There was a certain young and honest engraver who every 
month used to bring me parts of new works from the gallery 
of the Palais Royal — a man with the candour and timidity of 
a girl. I saw him a few days after August 1 and found him 
beaming with joy. " What is the matter ? " I asked. " Ah ! 
sir," he replied, " Pro\ddence has smiled upon me : I have killed 
three Swiss." In the meantime the prisons became crowded. 
The suspected and the convicted were thrown in pell-mell. 
Whoever had grumbled at his wig-maker or left his shoe-maker 
was not certain of sleeping in his bed. Spies and denunciators 
swarmed among the servants, and thus were accumulated the 
victims who were sacrificed during the days of September. 
Terror was universal : some underwent it, others practised it ; 
and these latter were the unfortunate people who, driven by 
fear to pursue others, trembled lest they should be found less 
fanatic than the two or three howlers of their Section (for 
the Sections had become clubs), and who strove to see who 
could play the part of sans-culotte the best — they who would 
have shouted " Long live the King ! " so heartily if only Louis 
had made up his mind to be the conqueror. Never did 
despotism possess the tenth part of the power that was exer- 
cised by that small and filthy oligarchy. It had eyes and arms 
everjrwhere. 

To leave Paris under such circumstances as these was no easy 
thing, and especially when it was a question of the departure 
of an entire family — mother, children and servants. It was a 
good thing that my mother had a dog named Brutus, that she 
was liked by everybody, that she had always bought provisions 
in the neighbourhood, and above all that she had plenty of 



116 BARON DE FRENILLY 

money. I could not tell you how many purchases she made in 
the course of a month in order to gain the suifrages of her 
quarter, but at last she succeeded. Passports were granted 
her by a majority of votes at the Church of the Filles Saint 
Thomas. Only, prudence was to be shown in dividing them. 
There was one for herself, another for her daughter, a third 
for a femme de chambre, styled bonne, and, I believe, even a 
fourth for a man-servant ; such was the consideration shown 
her ! The cook and his wife, an assistant cook, the butler, my 
sister's femme de chambre, and my two servants had special 
passports — one for one reason, another for another. Every- 
body wanted to follow us, so much did the fear of remaining 
on the streets inspire fidelity ! The only ones to remain in 
Paris were the door-keeper Bazin and his wife, who had been 
my sister's nurse — excellent Jacobins, who had been with us 
for twenty years, and loved us better than anything else in the 
world, after " La Liberte, TEgalite, ou la Mort." My mother 
kept these brothers and friends as a safeguard for her 
house. They were even let into the secret of several precious 
boxes that had been taken into the attic and walled up. How- 
ever, as nothing less than a marshal was necessary for such a 
colony, my passport was dated a fortnight before those of my 
family ; and it was thus that I set out alone on Sunday, 
September 2, in a small hired cabriolet to catch the Orleans 
diligence I know not where. Unfortunately, I had taken with 
me a very pretty silver-mounted dressing-case, which went with 
me everywhere, and was ignorant of a municipal order for- 
bidding that gold or silver be allowed to leave the city. At 
the Ivry gate I found, therefore, that I was not allowed to 
pass ; at that of Enfer I was driven back, and at that of Maine 
maltreated. Sent from Section to Section, and proposing every- 
where to leave the guilty dressing-case behind, I at last began 
to be looked upon as a suspicious person. It was then that I 
took the wise step of returning home. Sunday was the day on 
which my mother had people to supper. I found everybody 
silent and dismayed ; for on that day, as I was then unaware, 
the massacres had begun, and there was not an honest person 
in Paris who had not relatives, friends or acquaintances in the 
prisons. On seeing me my mother gave a cry of sorrow. 



M. DE CHAZET 117 

But it is not my intention to write history. I still recollect 
the manifesto — a deplorable piece of boasting — which brought 
public exasperation to its height ; Luckner's retreat, the march 
of the King of Prussia in Champagne, and the treason of the 
Due de Brunswick, who sacrificed, for the eleven millions that 
were thrown to him, Louis' salvation, his word, and the honour 
of the King of Prussia, who, but for his perfidy, would have 
entered the Tuileries a week later.^ The news of his first 
successes was the signal for a second massacre more horrible 
than the first, which lasted three days without a single com- 
pany being ordered to stop it. Those horrible days have often 
been described. Here, however, is an extraordinary fact that 
did great honour to M. de Chazet. He had the face of a 
sheep-dog, and was sordidly avaricious ; yet he saved the 
Baronne de Mackau, his second daughter's mother-in-law and 
assistant governess to the children of the King of France. 
She had been one of the first to be imprisoned at the Force. 
M. de Chazet scattered money broadcast to win over a few 
honest plebeians of that quarter, and, having been informed of 
the day when the horrible popular tribunal was to sit at the 
door of the prison, went there early in the morning, disguised 
as a sans-culotte. When the baroness's turn came to appear 
before those hellish judges, M. de Chazet began to defend her 
in the language of the Markets ; and so well did he play his 
part, supported by his accomplices, that he obtained her ac- 
quittal. An act so admirable as this makes up for many 
eccentricities. This curious and disagreeable man must really 
have had some other intrinsic merit than courage, intelligence, 
and an income of three hundred thousand francs, for he Avas 
tenderly loved by his excellent wife and by the charming 
Felicite de Mackau. 

This bloodshed and the news of the retreat of the Prussians 
brought, a few days later, a semblance of calm. Until then 
there had been everywhere nought but incessant uproar, dis- 
guised joy, fear rushing to arms, and rage finding vent in 
imprecations. On every square and carrefour were tricoloured 
stages where, to the sound of martial music, beplumed crimps 
enrolled volunteers. The insufficiency of these means quickly 
1 It is now known that Brunswick always acted loyally. — A. C. 



118 BARON DE FRENILLY 

showed the extent of public patriotism, and produced the first 
requisition or enforced enrolment law, the first fruit of liberty. 
My age (then barely twenty-four) brought me within it, and 
for six years I suffered many vexations. 

At last, with head on high, I set off by the Orleans stage 
coach. In it was a stout, short, rotund and florid little 
gentleman, a native of Lorraine, son of a M. de Marcol, 
attorney-general or president of the Nancy parliament, an 
incessant chatterer, a side-splitting joker, a thorough pro- 
vincial, and who, fearing envious people, was desirous of hiding 
the brilliancy of so much merit in the solitary chateau of 
Fontpertuis, near Beaugency. Before we had travelled more 
than a hundred yards, M. de Marcol de Manoncourt — he 
whispered this feudal addition into my ear and confided it 
only to intimates — became my sworn friend. A few leagues 
from Etampes, as we were walking ahead of the diligence, 
which was changing horses, we met a mournful procession of 
three carriages containing the Orleans prisoners — Brissac, 
Lessart, and many others — the last honest men who had sat 
on Louis XVI.'s council. They had but one more day to 
live. Whilst this sight was making my hair stand on end, 
my companion began to shout at the top of his voice, " A la 
guillotine ! "' " Wretched man,'' said I, pulling him by his 
coat, " at any rate keep your tongue still ! " " Ah ! " he 
replied, " I shout because I'm frightened." There you have 
the history of the whole of France.^ At Beaugency this 
young hero left me, with an invitation to attend his wedding, 
for he was going to try to marry at Fontpertuis Mme. de 
Bonvoust's second daughter ; and the amusing part of it is 
that, three or four years later, I was present at that wedding. 

We settled down at Loches as well as we could, deciding 
to live there until better times, and had a most peaceful, re- 
tired existence. However, I determined to risk a few ex- 
cursions, if only for the purpose of casting an eye on our 
possessions. 

1 The fifty-three Orleans prisoners, including the Due de Cosse-Biissac, ex- 
ministers Lessart and d'Abancourt, the juge de paix Lai'ivi^re, officers and 
private individuals of Perpignan, all accused of surrendering the citadel, were 
massacred at Versailles on September 9. On the 6 th and the 7 th they stopped 
at Etampes, so Frenilly met them on the 8th. — A. C. 



A JACOBIN PRIEST 119 

In the Nivernais I owned an estate called Alligny, which, 
although it was the first barony of the province, was very 
small. Its revenue did not amount to more than eight or 
ten thousand francs. It possessed, however, a big, old square 
castle, exceedingly feudal in aspect and flanked by four huge 
towers. The cure of the parish was an ex-grenadier of the 
French guards, the most handsome man and the biggest scamp 
you ever set eyes on. He had got himself appointed mayor, 
and when a decree was issued ordering that all signs of 
feudality should be destroyed, he decided that my towers were 
an emblem, summoned the neighbouring parishes, and in 
twenty-four hours treated them like the Bastille. After this, 
he sent me in a bill for the work of demolition. The matter 
was rather serious and merited personal inspection. But to 
get to Alligny was not then easy. It was winter, the Terror 
was at its height, passports were lacking, there was a guard- 
house every half-league and a popular society in each town. 
To travel in a cabriolet was to parade a revolting aristocracy, 
whilst to wear a queue and powder, as I did still, was to show 
counter-revolutionary opinions. So I had to cut off" my pig- 
tail, wash my hair, let my moustache grow, and, in order to 
have the diploma of a sans-culotte which would break down all 
barriers, affiliate myself with the Jacobins of Loches. In a 
fortnight I was ready. Barreau and I then mounted our cobs, 
and in four or five days arrived without accident at Cosne-sur- 
Loire, the nearest town to Alligny. We had some money 
with us, but were advised to get rid of it as a suspicious thing, 
because a commissary of the Convention had just been round 
laying his hand on all the precious metal he could find, even 
the peasant's ear-rings. 

Cosne was making great preparations for the Feast of 
Reason, which was to be celebrated two days later. We put 
up at the best inn in the town. Our hostess, a good wife and 
mother, and strong aristocrat, was, to her misfortune, the 
handsomest woman in Cosne ; and when a deputation from 
the popular society summoned her to represent the Goddess 
Reason she had to consent. As to ourselves, who, imme- 
diately on arrival, had patriotically given two barrels of wine, 
owed me by a tenant, towards the fete, another deputation 



120 BARON DE FRENILLY 

came to invite us to the civic banquet, a supper which was 
given in the large vaulted windowless room of an ancient 
convent. Only men were present. All the journeymen 
cutlers, anchor makers and other artisans of Cosne stood 
upright — and I with them — in front of planks which served 
as tables, without table-cloths, napkins, knives, spoons or forks. 
Everything was eaten with the fingers. My neighbour im- 
prudently drew a clasp knife from his pocket, whereupon there 
was a general cry of protest. There were neither decanters, 
nor bottles, nor glasses, but pitchers of wine which passed from 
mouth to mouth, and with such frequency that half the guests 
were under the tables at the end of an hour. In the middle 
of the room was a tribune, from which, after the speeches, 
songs were sung, five or six hundred voices joining in the 
refrain. Then came the resolutions, including one to the 
effect that \\ie fete should be concluded by requisitioning all 
the prostitutes in Cosne. 

Such was the welcome I received in the capital of my barony. 
As to Alligny, you may well imagine that I heartily approved 
of my dear peasants'" patriotic act and congratulated my honest 
cure on having so dexterously turned my chateau into a cripple. 
I then ordered that the four remaining broken walls be walled 
up, and left the district, which was getting a little too warm. 
A fortnight later an alleged conspiracy was discovered, and 
nineteen fathers of families were dragged from their homes to 
be sent to Paris to die on the scaffold. 

This journey brings to my mind another that was shorter 
and less dangerous. One could not travel a league in those 
days without some event occurring. Not far from Loches 
stood the Chateau de Chenonceaux that had been built on the 
Cher by a treasm-er of Francis I., augmented by a bridge con- 
structed by Diane de Poitiers and by a gallery on the bridge 
due to Henri II. It had been inhabited by Catherine de 
Medicis and at the time to which I refer it was owned by 
Mme. Dupin. A desire coming over me to sketch it, I set off 
alone on my cob. I crossed the Cher by a ferry boat opposite 
the beautiful and picturesque building, left my horse at a 

1 The author doubtless refers to the trial of eleven inhabitants of Cosne, 
eight of whom, were executed on June 10, 1794. — A, C. 



MADAME DUPIN 121 

village tavern, and began to wander about in search of the 
best point of view. At last, after recrossing the river, I drew 
out my album, sharpened my pencils, and sat down on the bank 
opposite Diana's bridge. But I had forgotten the Vendee, which 
was throwing the whole district into commotion. Before I had 
sketched three arches I felt a hand laid on my collar, and, on 
turning round, found myself surrounded by a score of young 
fellows, the pick of the village, with rifles on their shoulders. 
Having watched my marches and counter-marches, and seeing 
them end in a sketch, they took me for a spy who had come 
to draw up a plan of the chateau. This was very politely ex- 
plained to me by the cure of Chenonceaux who accompanied 
them, probably with the object of preventing them committing 
a piece of stupidity. My answer was to give my name and 
show them the pages of my album, containing heads, flowers, 
trees, and verses. This inventory amused the villagers, and 
the good cure, who was also Mme. Dupin's steward, politely 
begged me to be his mistress's prisoner. It was then that I 
made the acquaintance of Chenonceaux, which I have since 
seen so often. I was received by the aged Mme. Dupin in the 
manner in which ladies of ninety-four receive young men of 
good manners and fine figure. Women of forty do not care 
for youth, because it reminds them that they no longer 
possess it ; but those of ninety do, because it reminds them of 
their own early days. Mme. Dupin was dressed to suit her 
age, was exceedingly white, and very little wrinkled ; and her 
delicate features still showed how great her beauty must have 
been at the time that the Marquise de Noailles took her to see 
her aunt de Maintenon in her retirement at Saint Cyr. Her 
memory was as clear as that of a person of twenty. I have heard 
her in the morning read a letter by Voltaire and repeat it to 
us in the evening without forgetting a word. I say us, because 
she had with her for company two grand-nephews, Rene and 
Auguste de Villeneuve, who were still almost children. The 
remainder of her household was reduced to her cure, a lady's 
companion and her perruches, which were not parrakeets but 
little peasant girls of fifteen to twenty years, whom she kept 
around her in order to receive their thousand little attentions 
and gaze on their youth. Her daily life was very singular. 



122 BARON DE FRENILLY 

She had no fixed hours either for eating or sleeping. Each 
servant did a little of everything, save his or her own work. 
She had turned an excellent cook, obtained from the Prince de 
Conde, into a worthless one. At the dinner-hour he was to be 
found in the park reading Voltaire, whose writings he used to 
lend his mistress. More than once did we young people descend 
to the kitchens, in the abutments of the bridge, to prepare 
our own luncheon. Mme. Dupin's huge bedroom served as 
drawing-room, dining-room, and everything else. When the 
dinner-hour was decided upon, we assembled there. She sat at 
the middle of the table, ate a few bites out of politeness, and 
then served what was in front of her — everything, including 
even an omelette — with her small fingers ; for such was the 
custom among the belles of the Regency, who were thus con- 
sidered to add to the food's excellence. But if she did not eat 
at table, she marked what had to be kept for her, and these 
dishes were placed on shelves in a large adjoining room, where 
she ate when the fancy took her. I several times went in and 
always found enough to provide a meal for ten people. Above 
her bedroom was an equally large room, the bed-chamber of 
Diane de Poitiers, whose name and portrait it retained. It 
was a square room, lit by a large window, from which one 
could see the whole course of the Cher, and in one corner was a 
small wardrobe that would not have held four people. There 
was nothing more, not even a back-staircase, and everything 
had to pass through the bedroom. 

Mme. Dupin had kindly granted to everybody in the district 
a right of way through the beautiful gallery constructed on the 
bridge. With its double row of windows, from which the Cher 
was visible both up and down stream, it was an admirable piece 
of architecture. It was decorated with a number of poor por- 
traits of the greatest people of several centuries. At its far 
end, on the other side of the Cher, you descended into a second 
park. For this beautiful building was incomplete. The plan 
to build on the opposite bank a wing similar to the one already 
constructed had never been carried out, and Francis' treasurer 
thus well justified his motto, which he placed on every door: 
" S'il vient a point, il m'en souviendra." In the second park 
was the Allee de Sylvie celebrated by Rousseau. Reminiscences 



CHENONCEAUX 123 

of Jean Jacques were to be encountered at every step at 
Chenonceaux, but nowhere more so than in what was called 
the petit chdteaii, a long building in the form of a gallery, 
which on one side skirted the courtyard and on the other 
Catherine de Medicis"" still magnificent parterre. This gallery, 
which Rousseau occupied with his pupils, Mme-lDupin's two sons, 
MM. de Francueil and de Chenonceaux, was divided into eight 
or ten rooms, that had been fitted up by the friend of nature, 
at great cost to Farmer- General Dupin, with a collection of 
instruments for the study of experimental physics, a chemical 
laboratory, a museum of natural history, a library, a drawing 
and sculpture room, &:c. Everything was still complete and 
thickly covered with cobwebs when I saw them. We know 
what brilliant pupils were turned out there. That recollection 
was the only one which Mme. Dupin persisted in driving from 
her memory. I once tried to get her to talk about Rousseau, 
but could obtain nothing more than the words : " He was a 
mischievous rascal."" Since then I have also spoken to Mme. 
d'Houdetot about him, and, though less bitter, she was still 
more silent. This man left misfortune behind him wherever 
he went.^ 

It was necessary to drag myself from the delights of 
Chenonceaux in order to return to Loches, and then, much 
against my will, throw myself into the abyss of Paris, where all 
sorts of business summoned me. My mother had been able to 
employ only part of the capital of the post of Administrator- 
General. The Hotel de Jonzac was no longer costing anything, 
but it was bringing nothing in ; rentes were paid in assignats, 
which were rapidly depreciating ; she was forced to receive 
reimbursements, which no law then prevented ; and, finally, 
illegitimate children had begun to contest her right to the 
inheritance from M. de Saint- Waast. I returned, therefore, 
to Paris, at the worst period of the Terror. The Cordeliers 
had succumbed ; the wolves had ceded the battlefield to tigers 
and hyenas. I wanted to see, once and for all, one of the daily 
sacrifices. It was in the Rue Saint Honore. Three carts, 

1 Eousseau spent the autumn of 1747 at Chenonceaux, and composed there 
the mediocre plaj Z'Sngageme9it Umiraire and his best poem, L'AlUe de Sylvie, 
in which he sings of " la douce et charmante reverie." — A, C. 



124 BARON DE FRENILLY 

painted red, harnessed to two horses and escorted by five or six 
gendarmes, slowly made their way through an immense and 
silent crowd, which showed no joy and did not dare to express 
its horror. In each vehicle were five or six condemned men. 
I recollect distinctly only the first, because of two faces that 
struck me with surprise and horror. One was that of Danton, 
Robespierre's Pompey, the great victim of the day. His 
enormous round head was proudly turned towards the stupid 
multitude, with impudence on his forehead and an expression 
of rage and indignation on his lips. The other was that of — 
shall I say ? Herault de Sechelles, dejected and with despair on 
his brow, which he bent towards his knees. His black hair 
was short and stood on end, his collar was loose, and he was 
half-dressed in a wretched brown dressing-gown. Suddenly he 
appeared to me as I saw him in Parliament when he received 
me as an advocate : handsome, young and elegant, his whole 
toilet carried out with the greatest refinement. Philosophy had 
thrown him into the Revolution, pride had kept him there, and 
fear had enchained him ; and above and beyond what the others 
had, he had the misfortune to be contemptible. Such was the 
situation of the man who had been the object of my mother's 
predilections and hopes, her wished-for son-in-law, and the 
model she had held up to her son.^ 

A few days afterwards the entire Grand' Chambre of the 
Parliament passed along that mournful route. I did not see 
that terrible procession, for the first had been enough for me. 
When it passed I was at a colour-dealer's in the Rue du Coq. 
On hearing the rumbling of the tumbrils everybody rushed to 
the windows, but I kept as far away as possible.^ 

The Farmers-General still awaited their turn. For the past 
year they had been imprisoned in their former Hotel des Fermes 
in the Rue de Grenelle Saint Honore, under the pretext that 
they had to work at their accounts, for in 1793 the revolu- 
tionaries had still shame enough to look for excuses. Among 
them I had relatives and friends, so several times went to see 

1 April 5, 1794. Cf. Wallon's Histoire du tribunal rivolutionnaire de Paris, 
vol. iii. 1881, pp. 188-192, According to Des Essarts, Herault "carried his 
head on high, without any affectation," and " nothing in his manner indicated 
the slightest mental agitation." — A. C. 

2 April 20, 1794.— A. C. 



THE TERROR IN PARIS 125 

them, to find, to my great astonishment, that almost all were 
in security. M. de Laperriere,^ who possessed as much common 
sense as virtue, was the only one who said to me : " We shall 
not see each other again." 

Among the prisoners who then crowded the prisons, convents, 
houses, and every place that could be converted into a jail, 1 
must not omit to mention the actors of the Comedie-Fran9aise. 
The Comedie-rran9aise was the aristocracy of the stage and its 
incarceration became a title of nobility. It kept its rank in 
the Revolution, and all its members, with the exception of 
Dugazon and Mole, made a point of honour of keeping up 
their dignity, preferring to be prisoners like dukes and peers 
than free as comedians. After the Terror, they reappeared in 
the midst of an eclat and favour that almost amounted to 
gratitude. 

Not a single carriage was then to be seen in Paris. The 
whole of people's lives was centred in their homes, where they 
spoke little, in a low voice, and with the doors securely closed. 
Nobody was sure of what the next day would bring forth. 
Women did not go out at all, men rarely, and those you met 
in the streets were in carmagnole costume, that is, with jacket 
and trousers of grey-brown cloth, coloured necktie, straight 
short hair, cap, hob-nailed shoes, and a cudgel. Such was the 
recognised style of dress ; and as the agreeable and the 
ridiculous is ever mingled with everything in France, the youth 
of Paris still found a means of giving a touch of elegance to 
this costume. On evrey wall, in large letters, were the words : 
" Liberte, Fraternite, Egalite ou la Mort." At every house- 
door was a placard bearing the names and ages of the occupants. 
Stage masterpieces were excluded from the theatres, or, if they 
were still produced, had undergone a revolutionary revision 
which removed all titles and allusions to the nobility. The 
word " Loi " replaced " Roi," and in Sedaine's Deserteivr they 
sang : " La Loi passait et le tambour battait aux champs." At 
the exit to the Opera you could hear the " Luxembourgs " 
shout : " Citoyenne So-and-So's carrtoley To have the use of 
this light covered-cart was then a great luxury, and you had to 

1 Jacques Joseph Br^c <ie Lapem^re, sixty-eight years of age, was executed 
on May 8, 1794, with twenty-seveu other Farmers-General. — A. C, 



126 BARON DE FRENILLY 

have friends in order to enjoy it. In the middle of the Place 
du Carrousel was a small funereal sacellum — Marat's monument, 
at which the sans-culottes offered up neiivaines. At the Con- 
vention, which then sat at the Tuileries, were hung two portraits 
by David, as revolting as their originals and their painter — 
portraits of Marat and Le Peletier. But I did not see them 
until later. I should have felt too much horror in entering 
that charnel-house, where the vilest cowards in France obeyed 
her vilest rascals and prostitutes, for we can still remember 
that huge hall in which that female rabble, more ferocious than 
the male section — Robespierre''s tricoteuses — assembled, ate, 
drank, applauded or hissed. My doorkeeper, who knew how 
to respect herself, appeared there only from time to time and 
out of politeness. Sans-culottism observed, indeed, a sort 
of etiquette and propriety. One day this woman and her 
husband apologised for leaving the house empty in order to go 
to the Place de la Revolution, and on the ground that some 
friends of theirs were to be guillotined. 

Thus, you saw nothing but silent streets and barricaded 
doors. I could find no other acquaintances than my neighbours 
D'Aucour and Saint-Just,^ the litterateur, with whom I passed 
my evenings. Everybody else was in prison, or living far away 
on their estates, or had already become victims of the revolu- 
tionary axe. Mme. de Saint- Waast was dead ; ^ Mme. Delahante 
had died before her ; ^ and Mme. de Chazet was with her dying 
daughter in the country near Paris. It was there that I 
found that angel whom two years before I had left so brilliant 
and gay ; she already had one foot in the grave, and I never 
saw her again. 

At last came the 9th of Thermidor. I well remember the 
state of our minds, when, on opening the newspapers and as 
usual casting a first glance at the lists of condemned, we saw, 
instead of the names of friends or relatives, those of Robespierre, 
Couthon, and the majority of their compeers. My first step 

1 Simon Pierre Merard de Saint-Just (1749-1812), the author of numerous 
works of small value. His wife, Anne Jeanne Felicite d'Ormoy, published a 
few novels. — A. C. 

2 June 9, 1793 (Delahante's Une Famille de finance, vol. ii. p. 231). — A. C. 

3 Mme. Jacques Delahante, nee Renauld de Beauregard and niece of Mme. de 
Saint- Waast, died on May 21, 1766.— -A. C. 



REACTION 127 

was to shut all the doors. After that, we embraced each other 
with convulsive joy and read the account of those terrible days 
when the Talliens, certain of being sent to the guillotine, did 
what the Dantons had unsuccessfully attempted. France 
turned from one crime to another, and that a second-rate one ; 
we fell from the hands of rascals into those of ruffians. These, 
in order to reign, had need to rid themselves of complicity and 
pose as victims, not as assassins, as saviours of France, and not 
as cowards who merely wished to save their own lives. Yet it 
was necessary for them to retain the existing severe laws, in 
order to frighten the reactionaries and make up for their own 
weakness. The conquerors' names immediately revealed the 
situation, and we promised each other that we would observe 
absolute silence in the presence of the servants and an im- 
passible countenance when with strangers until the outlook 
was better. And, in fact, the Terrorist party tried for a long 
time to spread the idea that nothing was changed, that the 
scaifold would always be the dominator of France, so frightened 
were they that there would be an awakening, and that they 
themselves would be handed over to the executioner. This was 
what was called la queue de Robespierre — Robespierre's tail. 

However, the reaction occurred. Prison doors were opened. 
My mother, who saw my sister growing older without finding 
a husband, wished to return to Paris. This plan was promptly 
nipped in the bud by a decree forbidding former nobles to 
approach within more than twenty leagues of the capital. But 
we possessed at Chartres two excellent friends, the Marquis and 
Marquise de La Goy, natives of Provence, friends of Mme. de 
Bon, who had introduced them to my mother four years before. 
The Marquise was charming, natural and full of grace, and 
my sister's intimate friend ; her husband was agreeable, and 
a first-class musician and draughtsman. I wrote to him on the 
subject of settling down at Chartres. A reply came by return 
of post : the house was found, the district was quiet, living was 
cheap, and their arms were open to receive us. My mother 
having made up her mind, I set off to make arrangements for her 
arrival, and a few days later was embracing the good La Goys 
and their children. I inspected and took for a year a very 
pretty house, partly furnished. There I settled down, as I had 



128 BARON DE FRENILLY 

formerly done at the Hotel de Jonzac, so that my mother 
would not have even a nail to knock in or anything to desire. 
I spent the evenings with the La Goys, for we had a century of 
events to relate to each other. 

Awaiting the moment when the new house would be in a 

state to receive my mother, I made a little journey to Paris. 

My crime in being a ci-devant forbade it, but there was then a 

current of moderation among the governors, and subordinates 

were inclined to be mild. So I set off on my inseparable cob, 

without a permit or passport, and by indirect ways reached 

Ivry and the Saint-Justs', where I found an asylum. Leaving 

my horse with them, and with a stick in my hand, I set off on 

foot for Paris, passed freely through the city gate, and arrived 

at night at friend Brejole's, who then lived in the Lycee 

house, quite near the Palais Royal. He received me with 

good grace and harboured me. I then began to knock at the 

doors of all my old friends, and, thanks to the friendship of 

my amiable neighbour Mme. L'Empereur, assisted by the 

influence of a few third-rate Jacobins, succeeded in getting 

myself requisitioned. This had nothing to do with the 

military requisition to which I unfortunately belonged. The 

Government had tempered the law that banished nobles twenty 

leagues from Paris by decreeing that all those whose talents or 

knowledge were useful to the country could be requisitioned to 

stop. Goodness knows what a host of people with talent and 

scientific knowledge immediately came forth. As to myself, 

who had received lessons from the skilful Vanpal, I proudly 

presented to the jury at the Museum a little picture of some 

flowers. It was a detestable piece of work, but its testimony 

admitted me as a young follower of Vanhuysum whom it was 

essential to call to Paris. Thus did I pocket my requisition 

card and again become a citizen of Paris. Certain nobles then 

intrigued more to prove their plebeian state than they had 

formerly done to authenticate their nobility. After a few days, 

I returned to Ivry to get my cob and again take the road to 

Chartres, where my mother's household arrived the week 

following. She herself, at the beginning of Brumaire, Year 

III (October 1794), followed soon afterwards, not in a cab but 

in her old coach, and even riding post, so much had the times 



SCARCITY OF MONEY 129 

changed already ! On the roads the beggars addressed you as 
" Monsieur ! " 

It was not long, however, before I was once more on the 
way to Paris, not certainly on pleasure bent but on business. 
My mother had retained only the second floor of her house in 
the Rue Vivienne, and there I spent that winter of 1794, 
the excessive cold of which still further increased the misery of 
the famine. 

The war had drained France of practically all the money she 
had. Not a single halfpenny was to be seen, and, ruin follow- 
ing on ruin, they had reached the point of fabricating assignats 
of thirty sols which were not worth two. Provisions had risen 
to an enormous price, although less in proportion to that of 
money, for everything was in such a disorder that buyers and 
sellers no longer calculated. The value of paper money 
changed from day to day, so that those who concluded transac- 
tions with payment a week ahead often received a third less 
than the sum agreed upon. 

In Paris, where the people live by their work and no longer 
found any to do, where the middle-class citizen lives on his 
rentes, which were paid him in paper, and where the landlords 
received their rents from farms and houses in the same currency, 
there was general consternation. It was under these circum- 
stances that the Convention invented the Loi du Maximum, 
which crowned the universal misfortune. Up to then, by 
ruining oneself, one could exist ; one could get a coat for the 
amount of a month's revenue, and so on. But after the 
publication of the Maximum all merchandise disappeared as 
though by magic. Nothing was either sold or bought except 
in secret ; every purchase was a conspiracy ; and there suddenly 
occurred — and this in the city of Paris alone — an absolute 
dearth not only of bread and fuel but of all the necessaries of 
life, whilst the country places were overflowing with the fruits 
of a splendid harvest. You should have seen those times, 
when it was indiscreet, an unheard-of impoliteness, to go to 
dinner at a friend's without taking your own bread, when you 
had to meet in secret to eat the white bread that a few sus- 
pected pastrycooks risked making ; when the bakers baked by 
order, using only pea and chestnut flour which the Government 



130 BARON DE FRENILLY 

distributed to them ; and when every baker''s door, from dawn, 
if not from night-time, was besieged by long famished queues of 
purchasers who, in order to receive a morsel of black, viscid 
bread, lost a third of their day. And in these tails you had 
either to figure or be represented, otherwise you were suspected 
of having bread concealed at home, and this was a crime that 
the Government punished by a fine, or the people by pillage. 
Many a time when this pseudo bread was brought to me have 
I thrown it against the wall, where it remained sticking, and 
not even my dog would approach it. Fortunately there was in 
Paris a very devoted woman who had been in my employ at 
Rheims, and whom I had assisted in starting a small business ; 
she made me excellent rolls and brought them at dusk. Every 
week I received from Chartres a very fine pate. My cellar was 
stocked with good wine, and thus did Brejole and I — for my 
mother had allowed him to live in the apartment she had 
retained — live. The same dearth extended to everything. 
You had to stand en queue for candles, soap, meat and wood ; 
all of which things were received at the maximum price, with 
a card provided by the Section, at dealers' with which the 
Government had relations. The population of Paris was to be 
seen proceeding to the roads outside the city to put up by 
auction the provisions which they dare not bring into Paris 
for fear of the Maximum, and I recollect having gone myself as 
far as Charenton, one terribly frosty night, to stop a small 
handcartful of wood, which I brought home across the fields to 
avoid having it taken from me. It was at this period that the 
Convention cut down the Bois de Boulogne. 

This universal disorder explains the craze for speculation 
that seized Paris. There were mountains of assignats remaining 
idle, and it was a question as to who would employ them, for 
no matter what : sugar, soap, oil, or fat. After a month*'s 
time, when everything had increased in price, everything was 
sold again, and people thought they were doing splendid 
business. They did not see that it was the assignats that had 
depreciated. I myself, like everybody else, gave way to this 
mania, and I can still see the stores of sugar that I amassed 
but which gradually dwindled to nothing, for, if I always sold 
at a higher price than that I had given, I invariably bought 



THE FAUBOURG ST. ANTOINE 131 

again at a higher rate than that at which I had sold. This 
example of my commercial genius cost my mother twenty 
thousand francs. It is true that they were in assignats, but the 
sad part of it was that to place this sum at my disposal she 
was obliged to borrow. To borrow and in order to get so 
little, she who had never owed a penny, she who possessed such 
large estates ! This was the first indication o± the decompo- 
sition of her splendid fortune. 

If there was one thing calculated to cause astonishment it 
was the fact that an entire population suffered all the horrors 
of cold and hunger during six months without rising. This 
phenomenon is explained by the terrible servitude it had 
undergone, by the fear that the Committee of Public Salvation 
and the revolutionary tribunal had inspired. People were still 
bending under the recollection of the past. But this servitude 
was gradually disappearing, and for a long time past the 
Terrorist party had been trying to awaken the sleeping 
population. In the spring the first disorders of the Faubourg 
Saint Antoine broke out. 

Here is all that I remember of that great uprising of the 
Faubourg Saint Antoine. The populace had made an irruption 
as far as that palace of the Tuileries which it knew so well ; it 
had massacred the deputy Feraud, and filed through the assembly 
hall of the Convention. We know what courage Boissy 
d'Anglas then showed. He was worth much more than the 
authority he saved. But France was in such a state of sub- 
version that it was the Convention which we defended at that 
time. The party in favour of order, justice and the re-estab- 
lishment of the throne was daily increasing in influence, and it 
was our duty to make it our ally, the only centre around which 
we could rally and unite in order to fight the Jacobins. Things 
had reached such a pitch that, when that terrible struggle was 
over and several of the firebrands of the Mountain had been 
sent to the Chateau de Ham, we aristocrats, who had watched 
over the King, now watched over the Convention, and conducted 
the prisoners to the city gates with loud cries of " Long live the 
Convention ! "" I still lauffh over the recollection and blush at 
it ! But let me return to that rabble Avhich Boissy d'Anglas 
held in check until he was certain that the Tuileries were 



132 BARON DE FRENILLY 

surrounded by companies of the National Guard. The signal 
was then given and with fixed bayonets we entered a door, 
slowly pushing towards another the tired and disconcerted 
populace, which no longer showed any resistance. This occasion 
was the only one that I ever had of seeing the redoubtable 
assembly hall and David's two pictures, hung on each side of 
the presidential chair. It was the next day that we entered on 
a campaign against the Faubourg Saint Antoine. It would be 
very difficult for me to say what the army numbered, and 
perhaps it would be considerably diminishing it to estimate 
it at one hundred thousand men, for, without counting the 
columns that marched by way of the Rue Saint Antoine, the 
quays and other streets, that to which I had the honour to 
belong occupied the entire length of the boulevard from the 
Chaussee d'Antin to the Bastille. The army no longer con- 
sisted merely of the twelve battalions of the National Guard — 
these formed but the skeleton ; it consisted of everybody in 
Paris who had a wife, children, a shop, a position or a life to 
defend — it was Paris against the fmibourg. The Porte Saint 
Antoine, which I saw in my infancy, no longer existed. On 
reaching the Bastille, our immense column divided, the larger 
portion blocking the entrance to the faubourg and the Rue 
de Charonne, the smaller proceeding to the river bank, skirting 
the rear of the fmibourg^ and descending the Rue de Reuilly, 
without finding either inhabitants or barricades. It appears 
that the inhabitants of the Faubourg Saint Antoine had not 
foreseen this clever manoeuvre. We were thus at the heart of 
the faubourg and took in the rear those who defended it on 
the side of the Bastille. Capitulation was prompt and without 
it being necessary for us to fire a shot. The principal corps 
then entered, and before night-time our whole army was 
established in the huge faubourg, from the Bastille to the 
Barriere du Trone, 

To conquer was not enough — we had to live. For three 
days some thirty or forty thousand men bivouacked there in 
order to make arrests that could have been made without 
difficulty by a squadron of horse-police. For two nights — 
fortunately without cold or rain — we slept on the ground. I 
slumbered as though I had been in my bed. We had no other 



A POPULAR SONG 133 

food than green stuff, butter and vinegar, so made salads with 
spinach and butter. The Convention then recognised our zeal 
by sending us to our homes. It was quite right in doing so, 
for we were not fighting for it. 

This expedition was the tomb of the popular revolution and 
marked the dawn of royalist hopes. The reaction was then so 
perceptible that the subordinate ruffians who had jumped from 
their small shops to the tribune of their Sections locked up 
scarves and red caps ; like oppressed aristocrats, they said 
" vous " in a whisper and " Monsieur " in a corner ; and asked 
us for certificates of moderation and humanity. We all gave 

these attestations, in order to justify M 's remark that 

there was not a royalist who had not a Jacobin riding behind 
him. At the theatres there was enthusiastically sung — and the 
public echoed it — the song " Le Reveil du peuple."" It was 
a flat and ridiculous apotheosis of the Convention, but the 
antidote of the " Marseillaise," and this was sufficient to 
warrant it being received with enthusiasm. I recollect the 
four first lines of the last couplet, addressed to the deputies : 

Suivez le cours de votre gloire ; 
Vos noms, chers 4 Thumanite, 
Volent au temple de M6moire, 
Au sein de 1' immortality Ii 

But, whilst the pit sang them in chorus, headstrong royalists 
like myself, for I never belonged to the " jeunesse de Freron," — 
" Freron's golden youth " — chanted in a less sonorous voice the 
following : 

Suivez le cours de la rivifere, 
Allez aux filets de Saint Cloud, 
Et vous aurez purg6 la terre 
Et de brigands et de filous. 

It was then that the nobles at last obtained permission to 
return to Paris. So I began to look for a residence for my 
mother and sister. The apartment in the Rue de Vivienne and 
the Hotel de Jonzac had been let; one, moreover, was too 
small, and the other too sumptuous. At the entrance to the 

1 See Dauban's Paris en 1794 et 1795, pp. 359-361, for further particulars as 
to this song and the days of Prairial. — A. C. 



134 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Faubourg Poissonniere, to the left, between the boulevard and 
the Rue Bergere, I found a very fine house that had formerly 
been occupied by President Le Boullanger.^ I took the first 
floor composed of three apartments. But when I sent the plan 
of the house to my mother, she took a fancy to a pretty little 
entresol and immediately chose it for herself. Her idea was to 
reserve the first floor for my married sister. This modest 
fancy had to be satisfied. The house had to be entirely furnished 
and we were still living on the basis of an income of 180,000 
francs. My mother entered into possession in July 1795. At 
that period I received for her a reimbursement of 140,000 
francs in assignats, half of which paid for the supply of wood 
for the year. 

Thus did we order our new life. The La Goys, who had 
returned from Chartres, had taken a very pretty little house 
in the Rue de Caumartin. Adelaide de Bon lived in the 
same street with a big son of eighteen, an exceedingly stupid 
fellow who was ruining his health by riotous living. In order 
to live, she was mortgaging her fine Fourques estate. Her 
father and mother were living under the same straitened 
circumstances. M. de Chazefs income of 300,000 francs had 
vanished. Poor Felicite de Mackau had been dead a year ; 
two of her children were dead also, the two remaining ones 
being with Mme. de Chazet. Mme. de Thesigny, a widow, 
lived on her estate at Fey and her two sons in the galleries of 
the Palais Royal. M. de Fauveau was almost ruined. His 
eldest daughter lived with him. Flore, the only happy one of 
the family, had just become a mother for the second time in 
Auvergne. 

A household of which I was very fond lived in our quarter 
— that of M. and Mme. de Prulay — whom I had met in the 
company of Mme. d'Aucour during the winters of 1791 and 
1792. The husband was a good fellow at bottom and not 
without intelligence, but full of ridiculous characteristics. He 
had a long thin body, surmounted by a head to match, and in 
the middle of his face was a nose compared to which that of 

1 This surname had been given by the City of Paris to one of his ancestors, 
who had fed the inhabitants of his quarter at a time of famine, and had become 
a family name. — F. 



MADAME DE PRULAY 135 

poor d'Argout^ would have appeared flat. This marvellous 
nose ^ had been reserved for the kisses of a little eighteen-year- 
old face ; round, white, transparent, and fresher than roses — a 
face with black velvety eyes, covered by long modest eyelashes 
— the most amiable, cheerful, naive and sweet face in the 
world, a true portrait of the character of a woman adored by 
everybody and who adored but her husband, as her son's nose 
still proves. Poor little Mme. de Prulay ! This household 
was intimately acquainted with Mme. de Bon, the La Goys, 
and especially with the Chevalier family, and wished me to 
marry that muse, thab Anne Chevalier, who so far I had seen 
shine but as a flash of lightning. But what concerned me 
most was my sister's marriage. She was more than twenty- 
four — much too late, whilst I was twenty-seven — much too 
soon, to think of marriage. But men were rare. How many 
of them had been killed or ruined by the Revolution, exiled 
by the emigration, or requisitioned for the army ! 

One day at the beginning of the autumn of 1795, who 
should call upon me but the little gentleman whom, three 
years before, I had left on the road to Beaugency when on his 
way to negotiate his marriage at Fontpertuis with Mile, de 
Bonvoust. This good young man, whose very name I had 
forgotten, had in no way forgotten me ; he had looked for me, 
found me, and come to say that I was ever dear to him, that 
my company was indispensable to his happiness, that he was 
expecting his father. President de Marcol, from Nancy, that 
he was looking for a carriage for him, so that the chief of a 
parliament of Lorraine should not have to suffer the affront of 
arriving at his daughter-in-law's chateau in a coucoii, or 
passenger van, that carriages had become very rare in Paris, 
and many other things which he retailed in the same phrase. 
I persuaded my mother to lend me her old coach, which was 
getting mouldy in the coach-house, for this expedition, and 

1 D'Argout, often minister during the reign of Louis Philippe, had, in fact, a 
very big nose ; and Thiers said that when he was hunting and issued fi-om an 
alley all the huntsmen used to fire, under the impression that his proboscis was 
a stag's antler (A. Chuquet's Stendhal, p. 170). — A. C. 

2 I believe that it was he who, on one occasion, was obliged to blow his nose 
at the entrance to the court ball-room, the officer on duty having said to him 
" Sir, take off your nose ; masks are not allowed." — F . 



136 BARON DE FRENILLY 

when the First President — a tall and very stout man — had 
arrived, we set off in it, riding post, and reached the Chateau 
de Fontpertuis the same evening. Whilst crossing the Loire 
by the Beaugency bridge, President de Marcol asked me the 
name of the stream and into what river it flowed ! 

It was during this short absence that the deplorable affair 
of the 1 3th of Vendemiaire occurred. So long as the Con- 
vention had had nothing to do save closing the Jacobins club, 
purging the Terrorist authorities, and taking a Parisian 
faubourg by assault, all had gone well. But it decreed, as a 
complement to its Constitution of the Year III., which formed 
a pentarchy and two councils, those of the Anciens and the 
Cinq Cents, that two-thirds of the members of these two 
chambers should be chosen from its midst. This measure 
aroused general indignation, for nobody, apart from its 
accomplices, wished that it should possess either power or 
impunity. The Constitution had been accepted only on the 
condition that it should be treated like the testaments of 
kings. The Parisian Sections waged battle, and the royalist 
10th of August burst forth on the 13th of Vendemiaire, 
Year IV (October 5, 1795). Bonaparte saved the Convention. 
It appointed the two-thirds of its members, France only one- 
third, entirely royalist, and in the two Assemblies was to be seen 
the strange amalgam of two furious republicans and one pure 
monarchist. Five regicides — Reffibell, Larevelliere-Lepeaux, 
Barras, Carnot, and Le Tourneur de la Manche — went and 
held their court at the Luxembourg under the name of the 
Directory. 

It was under the Directory that the scattered remains of 
good society began to return home. They looked for each 
other, called to each other, and found each other, but without 
beat of drum or sound of trumpet ; for spies had succeeded to 
executioners. Neither horses nor carriages were used, so as 
not to insult the sovereign on foot ; silver plate was invisible, 
so as to appear to have given it all to the Mint. When in 
public we even made a rather amusing pretence of poverty, 
eating, for instance, out of culs noirs, as though china were too 
costly. It was the height of good manners to be ruined, to 
have been suspected, persecuted, and above all, imprisoned. 



M. DE VINDE 137 

Without the last qualification, there was neither salvation nor 
consideration for you in society. People greatly regretted 
that they had not been guillotined, but said they were to have 
been the day after or two days after the 9 th of Thermidor. 
There were disputes over the question as to who had been the 
most unfortunate, that were enough to make one die with 
laughter, and I recollect the shame I felt at a victims' luncheon 
given by Madame Le Senechal at her Montrouge house on 
having to bear the affront of being the only one present who 
had not been in prison ! 

Thanks to this resurrection of good society, I began to extend 
my circle of acquaintances a little. The first two I formed 
were the Vinde and Moley families. 

M. de Vinde, who was five or six years my senior, was a 
small, thin, slender man, with a face that was all profile and a 
nose that held a middle position between d'Argout and Prulay. 
Quick, impatient and vehement, his limbs, like his mind, were 
ever in action. He had a passion for painting, music, poetry, 
prose, the arts and the sciences. In addition to this, he was 
romantic in his friendships, feelings, plans and hopes ; a 
philosopher to his finger-tips, an atheist with a zeal for 
proselytism, who had snatched religion from his wife and 
refused it to his children ; a perfect madman of the eighteenth 
century. To crown all, he had been a Conseiller des Enquetes, 
and in the early days of the Revolution the ardent and noisy 
guide and concionateur of his colleagues. He had calmed down 
since then, but he possessed only two reasonable characteristics : 
one, that of wholly adoring a woman worthy of his worship 
and of that of all those who knew her; the other, that of 
having a genius for business and for looking after his already 
considerable fortune with a sagacity which, during times which 
destroyed that of others, never ceased to increase it. He had 
inherited from a M. Paignon dljonval, an old counsellor of 
the Grand' Chambre, his grandfather or great-uncle, in addition 
to an income of sixty thousand livres from the Hotel de Ville, 
which he had employed on his magnificent Magnanville estate, 
some collections of great value : books, pictures, original 
drawings, caricatures dating from the days of the League, arms, 
costumes and utensils of all the savage races. The last coUec- 



138 BARON DE FRENILLY 

tion encumbered his house, so he sold it, and at such a price 
that he was able to purchase the Hotel de Montesson, or Petit 
Hotel d'Orleans, with its extensive garden. He then disposed 
of it at a high figure to speculators who wished to build on the 
Rue Taitbout and Rue de Provence, using the proceeds to buy 
the fine Hotel de Grammont, at the corner of the Rue Grange- 
Bateliere, on the boulevards. Under the terrace of this house 
he built a gallery of shops and in the courtyard a house, and 
the value of the property was already considerable when the 
assassination of the Due de Berry resulted in the Opera being 
built at the end of his garden. Part of his garden then 
became a double gallery of shops leading from the boulevard 
to the new theatre. Behold what a collection of native arms 
had produced ! M. de Vinde was, moreover, honest, kind, 
charitable, a warm friend, an excellent husband and father, very 
repentant for his political errors, and sincerely attached to the 
monarchy. I saw him the constant enemy of the Convention, 
the Directory, and Bonaparte, and enthusiastic over the 
Restoration.^ 

Mme. de Vinde was the daughter of old M. Choppin 
d'Arnouville, the hunchback and inveterate gambler, a man 
given to fits of anger, which however were soon over. She was 
not pretty, but exceedingly white with light blue eyes. Her 
round face was full of frankness, gaiety, calmness and goodness ; 
the true portrait of her soul but not of her character, which 
was quick-tempered. To her great anguish, she had transmitted 
her father's physical imperfections to her two daughters, her 
only children. The second was a sort of monster who happily 
died in childhood. The eldest remained small but graceful, 
with an agreeable head that recalled her mother's. She might 
then have been fourteen, and was already a fine musician. Four 
years later I thought of her and her parents thought of me, 
but the ascendency of the magistrature carried the day. These 

1 Charles Gilbert Morel, Vicomte de Vind6 (1759-1842), counsellor to the 
third Chambre des Enquetes (1778), president of the tribunal for the Tuileries 
quarter (1791), devoted to agricultural work and his collections during the 
Kevolution and the Empire, peer of France (1815), and member of the rural 
economy section of the Academy of Sciences (1824), published a Morale de 
Venfance (1790) and numerous papers on domesticated animals and agricul- 
ture. — A. C. 



ACADEMIE DES CHANSONS 139 

old parliamentary families stuck together like Jews. She 
married Hippolyte Terray, one of my best friends, nephew of 
the famous Abbe Terray, son of the Intendant of Lyons, a 
young man of great merit and very worthy of being preferred 
to me, but exceedingly pious. Mme. Terray died from con- 
sumption, leaving three children. Vinde, who detested his 
son-in-law, declared that he had killed his daughter, morally 
and physically, and it is true, for Terray was both a saint and 
a buU.i 

It was in the Vinde circle that that little Academie des Chan- 
sons, which had such a great success in Paris, where the dearth of 
wit equalled other dearths, and the horror of recollections 
added charm to trifling things, was formed. There were eight 
to ten of us : Desfaucherets, who could turn a couplet better 
than a five-act play ; the amiable Despreaux,^ the soul of all 
pleasures, a genius for minutiae, and whose only fault was that 
of having buried some charming songs in two octavo volumes ; 
d'Epinay, Anson, Bourgoing, and Vinde. 

Desfaucherefs songs were original ; those of Despreaux, gay 
and philosophical. After them came d'Epinay, the Farmer- 
General and son of the celebrated Mme. d'Epinay, who wrote 
the facile, lively songs of the good old times. Anson, the 
former Receiver-General, turned couplets that were cold and 
satirical, like himself. Those by Bourgoing, formerly ambas- 
sador in Spain, were roughly done, and contained more 
originality than sense. Vinde polished his, as one does an epic 
poem. As to myself, whom I modestly mention last of all, I 
think — if I am to believe public rumour — that my position 
was elsewhere in our hierarchy. 

We dined at Vinde's twice a week. After dinner we formed 
ourselves into a group, each reading or singing, or having his 
song sung, the motto for which had been given a fortnight 

1 Norvins knew Terray at college and during the emigration, and says that 
he was "full of knowledge and in many respects remarkable. He had one 
defect, or very rare merit — he was timid " (Mdmorial, vol. ii. p. 86). — A, C. 

2 Despreaux (1748-1820), dancer and ballet master at the Opera, stage 
manager in 1792 and director of public fetes in 1799, inspector-general of court 
entertainments in 1815, professor at the Conservatoire, and inventor of the 
musical chronometer. Cf. M6moires de Mme. de Ohastenay, vol. i. pp. 337-338, 
and vol. ii. p. 170.— A. C. 



140 BARON DE FRENILLY 

before. Then we selected and drew lots for the mottoes for 
the following fortnight. 

Opposite the Vindes, who occupied the magnificent house of 
Farmer-General de Laage, at the corner of the boulevard and 
the Rue Grange-Bateliere, stood, at the corner of the Rue de 
Richelieu, the house or palace of Le Couteulx du Moley, who, 
since the Sainte-Jameses and the La Bordes had disappeared 
from the scene, had remained the king of French bankers. It 
would have been better, perhaps, to have said the Agamemnon, 
for this family was that of the Atridae — Laurent Le Couteulx, 
Le Couteulx de la Noraye, Le Couteulx de Canteleu, not to 
mention others, all men of great influence, accustomed to great 
luxury, with fine houses, and pillars of the financial world. 

M. du Moley, who was fortunately seldom seen in his temple, 
was a tall, stout, badly-built man, with head deep set between 
his shoulders — a man as common in manners as in tone — 
coarse, brutal and debauched to the point of ruining himself, 
which, indeed, he did shortly afterwards. He kept in great 
luxury Mme. Dugazon, the most charming actress of the day, 
and at the same time the most perfect hussy, if she had not 
had Adeline as a companion. The effrontery of this liaison 
was carried to such a pitch that the actress despotically governed 
Mme. du Moley's house, whilst her brother acted as the hus- 
band's private secretary. Such was this foremost Parisian 
banker. 

His wife was the very opposite. A lady of studied elegance, 
with considerable wit, tact and grace, years and the Revolution 
had rid her of a lofty air and a brilliant impertinence, leaving 
her with merely a slight affectation of politeness and a pro- 
nounced taste for cultured men and things. Some people made 
out that she had not been abandoned and outraged by her 
unworthy husband with impunity, and that in her very real 
misfortune she had found consolers ; but I regarded this as 
ancient history. When I knew her, she had two big children, 
whom she adored ; she had lost every vestige of youth, and was 
no longer looked upon as anything else than an amiable wife 
and an excellent mother.^ 

t Cf. In regard to Jacques Jean Le Couteulx du Moley, the Memoires of Dufort 
de Cheverny, 1886, vol. ii. p. 20, and in reference to Mme. du Moley, the 



NEPOMUCENE LEMERCIER 141 

Her son Felix was a good and handsome boy of seventeen 
— simple, modest and of great promise, which, however, was 
not fulfilled, for, when Prefect of Dijon, he succumbed to an 
epidemic which he had faced with great courage. 

Her daughter Pauline, who was about eighteen, was not 
exactly pretty, but had an amiable, sweet, cheerful face and an 
agreeable figure. I speak of her as a man who has examined 
her as his own property, for I was very near marrying her. A 
Mme. de la Pierre had the generosity to offer to negotiate the 
union, and the proposal was sufficiently well received by the 
mother to warrant my own making a formal demand. But we 
had counted without M. du Moley — perhaps without Mme. 
Dugazon. The Agamemnon of the banking world had other 
ideas ; he remembered that his predecessor La Borde had 
married his daughter to a Noailles, and so he wanted a Noailles, 
no matter how. And he found one : poor Alfred de Noailles, 
the eldest son of the brilliant marquis, former ambassador in 
Vienna, and grandson of the Due d'Ayen, governor of Saint 
Germain. 

It was, I believe, about the end of this year 1796 that 
Nepomucene Lemercier"'s Le Levite de Ephrdim was produced 
at the Fran9ais. It was not without merit and obtained a 
remarkable success. We were all very fond of Lemercier — we 
who formed Mme. de Saint- Just's circle, and when all its members 
came to have supper with me after the performance the draft 
of a parody of the Levite was drawn up on the spot by Lemercier, 
Longchamps, the author of a charming opera, and myself. A 
fortnight later we produced it in Mme. de Saint-Jusfs salon. 
Lemercier was the best and most modest fellow in the world — 
a man of infinite wit and inexhaustible gaiety — in short, the 
most agreeable society man I have ever known. Glowing with 
the success of the Levite, he planned an Agamemnon, which 
was wildly applauded, and rightly so. This was the end of 
Lemercier. Fame turned his head, and he would no longer 
take anybody's advice. From Agamemnon he descended to 
Ophis ; from OpJiis he fell to Lsule et Orovese ; and with Clovis 
he came a cropper. In the end he was hissed, and henceforth 

Smmenirs of Mme. Vigee LeBrun, vol, i. p. 116, and Masson's Josiphivfi impdrd' 
trice, pp. 303-306.— A. 0. 



142 BARON DE FRENILLY 

disdained the public and his friends. Nevertheless, everything 
bad that he has written contains here and there the sparks of 
a great talent. 

Baron de Stael, who had inherited his wife's attachment for 
my mother, often passed his evenings in her little entresol. 
This excellent man has been ill-judged. His only fault was 
that of having married for money (he, the handsomest man 
in Sweden and of the house of Holstein) the ugliest girl in 
France, a descendant of the Necker family of Geneva. But he 
paid dearly for his mistake, for, whereas he provided his wife 
with that pedestal without which her glory would not have 
spread over Europe, he received from her the reputation of 
being a blockhead. This reputation had grown in inverse ratio 
to that of his Corinna ; it was the shade in the picture of 
which she was the light, and everything that increased the 
brilliancy of the one increased the obscurity of the other. It 
needed a certain amount of courage, therefore, to dare to say 
in society what he really was : a man of very good sense, very 
good manners, very good heart, well educated, a lover of litera- 
ture, magnificent without exaggeration, and possessed of a very 
noble ambassador-like face. I remember that in December 
1796, he courteously gave a ball in my sister's honour, 
and invited only those people she herself had selected. 
Where was his wife at that time ? In some place of exile 
or other, for she had too much wit not to make enemies 
everywhere.^ 

I recollect that at this time my mother also gave a ball in 
the large apartment which she did not inhabit. Paris was 
visibly reviving, and the first sign of life was that it took 
part in pleasures. Mme. de Vinde, Mme. du Moley, Mme. de 
Brege, Mme. d'Esquelbecq, Mme. Dillon, Mme. Mallet, and 
others, also gave balls to the best society of Paris. Finally, 
we had just started those charming Bonneuil balls that lasted 
all the winter of 1797. Old President de Bonneuil lent his 
delightful house in the Chaussee d'Antin for them, and once a 

1 Nepomucdne Leraercier (1771-1840). — A. C. 

« There seems to be no doubt that Baron de Stael was then at Coppet. At 
the summons of the Duke Regent of Sweden, he must have left Paris in the 
summer of 1796,— A. C, 



TWO PARISIAN LADIES 143 

week the former heau nmnde, enchanted to find that everything 
seemed rejuvenated by ten years, assembled there. ^ 

But I perceive that my pen has set down the names of a 
few people whom I have mentioned for the first time, and 
before going any further I must speak of them. 

Mme. de Brege was the sister of that celebrated Mme. de 
Montulle who was extolled during the last century for her wit, 
wealth and grace, and whose portfolio overflowed with academic 
homages. When I met this Aurora and Diana she was but 
a sickly, shrivelled mortal, who from her divinity had saved but 
an exquisite tone and a great knowledge of the world. Mme. 
de Brege, on the contrary, was tall and majestic, yet exceed- 
ingly simple and a very good woman. They occupied together, 
in the Champs-Elysees, a very fine house, the garden of which 
adjoined that of the Hotel de Beaujon, and where the Corsican 
Sdbastiani has since strutted about. The only members of her 
family that Mme. de Brege had with her were her two grand- 
children, a boy and a girl of eighteen to twenty. She joyfully 
fulfilled her obligation as a grandmother to give balls and 
suppers. Her gatherings were charming. On days when 
there was no dancing the grown-up people played in the grand 
salon, whilst the young ones assembled in the other. This was 
one of the epochs of my glory, the fertility of my genius having 
resulted in my being proclaimed the director of the company. 
Mezy possessed some merit, and we owed him the discovery of 
the Lievre egare, but he paled in my presence. 

Mme. d'Esquelbecq, my oldest friend, had been a Mile, 
de Brion. She had two brothers : one, a very bad fellow, 
called the Comte de MaroUes, died young ; the other, whose 
daughter married M. de Sinety, was the most loyal and 
fatiguing Aristides I have known. Separated from her hus- 
band, the most stupid and coarsest gentleman of Flanders, the 
Marquise d'Esquelbecq had a passionate but noble and orderly 
fondness for society, adornment, movement and pleasure. She 
had made her house, then at the corner of the Rue d'Artois 
and the Rue de Provence, the meeting-place of all the fashion- 
able people who had remained in or returned to Paris. Her 

1 Cf. Jules and Edmond de GoncQurt'S HistQire ^e la SocUte franqaise pen-^ 
dant h Directoire, p. 141.— A, C, 



144 BARON DE FRENILLY 

suppers, for those days, were exaggerated in their refinement, 
her balls charming, and it was at her house that the waltz 
dared to penetrate Paris. She heard me spoken of, prob- 
ably well, for she desired my company and asked Tourolle to 
bring me to her/ 

Comtesse Dillon had been Mme. de Monge, daughter-in-law 
of old Geoffrey de Monge, Administrator-General of Crown 
Lands, and sister-in-law of my excellent friend De Chamois. 
She had been considered the prettiest woman in Paris, and she 
herself still thought so without meeting either supporters or 
contradictors. Handsome Robert Dillon, who, though one- 
armed, had, like his brothers, a perfect physique, loved 
her passionately ; and, jealous as a tiger, was not cured of his 
malady until he had married her. Drawing-room gossip had 
coupled her name with that of the Due de Fitz-James, the 
most scandalous roite of the Court. Herault de Sechelles was 
paying her attentions at the same time ; and Robert said to 
his future wife, " I should infinitely have preferred your sleeping 
with Sechelles rather than have Fitz-James touch your little 
finger." 

Robert Dillon naturally leads me to speak of Mme. Mallet. 
Why ? For two reasons. The first is that his household 
lived on the most intimate terms with that of the banker 
Mallet, their country neighbour. Mallet having a charming 
house at Clichy, on the heights of Livry, and Robert having 
bought, above, the famous Abbaye de Coulanges. The second, 
which I cannot recall without smiling, was that we thought of 
fighting over one of the Mallet ladies, of whom I was not 
thinking in the least, and who, moreover, had not the slightest 
reason for pretending that she should be thought about. But 
Robert, with the coldest air, was always in love with eleven 
thousand virgins — whether they were really so or not. Mmes. 
Mallet, sisters-in-law who lived together, were the wives of the 
two bankers Mallet, men highly respected and worthy of being 
so : the elder simple and polite, the younger a jovial good 
fellow, semi-fashionable, and of fair ability. The wife of the 
elder, who kept house, not very pretty and slightly marked by 

1 In reference to Mme. d'Esquelbecq see also the M&moires of Mme. de 
Chastenay, vol. i. p. 337.— A. C. 



MY SISTER'S MARRIAGE 145 

small-pox, but exceedingly fair-skinned, very well made and 
naturally elegant, possessed wit and grace, and was one of the 
most amiable women in Paris. Her sister-in-law was a very 
good little woman of the second order, and it was precisely for 
her that poor Robert burned and wished to burn me, whereas 
I had been surprised at her sister's knees — literally surprised 
in her boudoir, with locked doors, by the brilliant Mme. de 
Fontanges, who possessed the sharpest tongue in Paris. As a 
matter of fact, we were rehearsing the scene of a play for the 
Clichy theatre, but this was such a worn-out excuse. Poor 
Mme. Mallet swore that in future she would speak to me only 
in the drawing-room. 

In February 1797 my sister's marriage was celebrated. She 
married Baron de Nervo, son of a former President of the 
Grand Council of Lyons. He was an exceedingly capable 
naval officer who had retired from the service since August 10, 
1792, a man of thirty, much esteemed, of good character and 
appearance, and with a remarkably handsome face. He pos- 
sessed, however, a certain amount of severity, acquired in 
his profession, a little of his mother's parsimony, and habits 
and manners which were not always up to the standard of 
those of the most fashionable world. In short, people said 
that my sister had made but a mediocre marriage. I lived on 
very good terms with this brother-in-law, even after his widow- 
hood, even after his second marriage, but without being able 
to care for him. He also cared little for me. Who was to 
blame ? Perhaps both of us. 

This same winter of 1797 was for me the period of another 
event which was useful to me for the rest of my life and at the 
same time very amusing. I was not living for nothing in an 
almost literary class of society. I had written a play that had 
been received at the Fran9ais, another one which my mother 
thought pretty, the third of a parody, songs that were much 
thought of, and a translation of the three first cantos of Ariosto. 
It was time to think seriously of immortality. So I Avrote a 
charming vaudeville entitled Les Trots T antes, in which a young 
man marries a niece whilst all the time paying attentions to 
three aunts. I read the work to the council of the Vaudeville 
Theatre ; and unfortunately I read very well, sang better, and 



146 BARON DE FRENILLY 

had as judges amiable little hussies who wished for nothing 
better than to laugh. The play was received unanimously, a 
thing unprecedented at the Vaudeville, and it was prophesied 
that there would be fifty performances. The parts were copied 
out and I jumped over ten plays that preceded me. Every- 
thing was learnt and ready before Easter. However, such was 
my modesty, I had retained the strictest incognito. But 
everything came out ; a few days before, at Longchamps, 
which was beginning to revive, several people complimented me, 
I' defended myself badly, and on the day of the performance 
all my friends were in the secret, all were at the theatre. Never 
before had I seen a better company, nor one more disposed to 
applaud everything. Nevertheless, my heart beat furiously 
and I was in great perplexity. But as soon as the curtain rose 
my uncertainty ceased, — I was perfectly reassured. Before half 
of the first scene had been played I said to myself : " Oh ! but 
this is execrable ! "" The public was of the same opinion and, 
whilst my friends kept applauding, hissed with all its strength. I 
ended by heartily hissing myself, for the further the play pro- 
gressed the moi« convinced I was that the people were right. 
On leaving the theatre, a friend who was not in the secret said 
to me : " What a piece of extravagance, what a wretched 
farce ! "" " Detestable," I replied, and whatever he said I went 
one better. " It is said to be by Comte de Segur," he continued. 
" No," rejoined I, " it was written by me." The poor man was 
fixed in amazement. I was to take supper at Mme de Vinde's, 
where some wreaths, I believe, were awaiting me. I entered 
proudly and, holding my sides with laughter, related the adven- 
ture to an assembly of forty guests. All the laughers were on 
my side. There is nothing like laughing at oneself the first. 

I do not recollect much more that happened during the 
remainder of 1797. Mme. du Moley, with her newly married 
daughter, went to spend the spring at Meung in her magnificent 
country house, bought in 1790. I spent a few days there. A 
celebrated proscript, who had formerly, it was said, been the 
faithful friend of the lady of the place, had found an asylum 
there. This was Comte Olavides, a tall, stout, square-shouldered 
man with a very handsome face, between fifty and sixty years 
of age. Constantly working on his justification, he read us 



I 



TRIAL OF BABEUF 147 

some of its passages, which displayed philanthropy in every 
line. He since obtained permission to return to Spain, and, I 
believe, the restitution of his confiscated property.^ 

Young Pauline de Noailles and I — sometimes even with her 
vine-prop of a husband — used to take long rides on horseback. 
Often they were veritable journeys lasting the whole day. We 
lunched or dined in neighbouring chateaux. She wore a riding- 
habit and turned me into a centaur. I would willingly have 
been something else had she wished, for I regarded her as stolen 
property ; but she was still on her honeymoon, and it was a 
little too soon. On one occasion we went to dine at Fontpertuis. 
Whilst on the way a terrible downpour of rain overtook us, 
and the poor little woman, who wore only a nankeen riding- 
habit, was so drenched that she had to stop at a village inn, 
the keeper of which, a tall, stout fellow, mayor of his commune, 
was called Ombredane. The name made her laugh so much 
that it has remained fixed it my memory. Thence I galloped 
to the chateau to fetch chemise, stockings, dress, and other 
articles of feminine clothing. Everything was found, and 
even a ferrmie de chambre, with whom I could very well have 
dispensed. 

From Meung I went with a landowner of the neighbourhood 
to Vendome to attend the trial of Babeuf and his companions. 
We arrived at the very moment judgment was being delivered, 
and on mounting the tribunal staircase thought we should have 
been knocked down by the terror-stricken people who were 
descending. With great difficulty we entered the room where 
that wretch, on hearing that he was sentenced to death, had just 
stabbed himself, and we saw only the atrocious faces of his 
accomplices, condemned like himself. On leaving the court we 
met some of the most distinguished young ladies of Vendome 
begging in the streets for the widows of those who would 
have cut their fathers' throats.^ 

I made a few excursions to Chenonceaux, where I once 

1 Q/". , in reference to Olavides, the M6moires of Comte Duf ort de Cheverny 
vol. i. p. 205.— A. C. 

2 Babeuf and Darthe, sentenced on May 26, 1797, by the national high 
court, assembled at Vendome, to death, stabbed themselves on hearing the 
judgment. The next day they were carried in a dying condition to the 
scaffold. — A. C. 



148 BARON DE FRENILLY 

more met Mme. Dupin — younger than ever in spite of being 
four years older — and Rene de Villeneuve, who was married 
and a father. We made excursions all over the district ; his 
charming wife and I sketching whilst he recited Racine's 
poetry. 

I also visited the Vignys at Loches. The wife had a great 
talent for painting, aspired to be a woman of wit, and effected 
Mme. de Sevigne's style in writing. I have some letters of 
hers that prove it. But Mme. de Sevigne imitated nobody. 
The husband, emaciated and bent double since the Seven Years 
War, was a very excellent man, possessing wit, acuteness, and 
some pretension to originality. Their son was a little boy 
and as yet revealed no signs of the great man he was to 
become.^ 

Let me at last speak of Magnanville, where I went to 
conclude my vilUgiatures. About eighty years ago, it was a 
modest chateau admirably situated on the heights above 
Mantes, on the left bank of the Seine. M. de Lavalette 
bought it and wished to restore it, but his architect did his 
work so well that the building finished by collapsing. It was 
necessary to build another, and by degrees it grew in extent, 
magnificence, and interior decoration, into a royal manor- 
house. Superb French gardens sprang up around, whilst an 
avenue a league in length led from the gates of Mantes to 
those of the chateau. Three or four million francs were 
expended on it. At last, M. de Lavalette found that this 
estate, increased by several neighbouring properties, was eating 
up his fortune, so sold it to M. de Boullongne, the Farmer- 
General, who displayed a luxinry there worthy of the habitation. 
Magnanville became the meeting-place of the coxxrt and the 
town. The number of apartments and the friends who 
occupied them was so great that M. de Boullongne had had 
made a sort of cardboard model of the interior of the chateau, 
showing the doors of all the apartments on the first and 
second floors with their numbers. Every morning his steward 
affixed the names of the guests above these doors, so that the 

1 Alfred de Vigny, the son of L6on Pierre de Vigny, captain in the infantry 
and knight of Saint-Louis, and Am61ie de Baraudin, was born on March 27, 
1797, and was eighteen months old when he left Loches for Paris. — A. C. 



MAGNANVILLE 149 

master on rising could see at a glance what visits he had to 
pay. The apartments were so complete that, on the second 
floor, I had a large bedroom with two alcoved windows, two 
wardrobes, a servant's room, and a very pretty study. The 
theatre was on the second floor under a little dome in the 
centre of the chateau, and, so that nothing should be lacking 
in this place, M. de BouUongne had got together a collection 
of every imaginable costume. He in turn ruined himself, and 
M. de Vinde, in exchange for an income of sixty thousand livres 
on the Hotel de Ville, purchased the domain in 1790. From 
that time the new owner's magisterial austerity, his wist 
economy, and especially the Revolution permitted magnificence 
only in the stones of the chateau, the furniture and recollections. 
M. de Vinde found that his predecessor had left the beautiful 
French garden in a terrible state and that an English garden 
was barely planted ; and in this disorder the park was allowed 
to remain. Life at Magnan ville became patriarchal, but 
accompanied by elegance, good company and good living. 
There is no denying the effect of solitude produced by its huge 
rooms on the fifteen to twenty friends assembled there, for people 
who seek each other's society prefer walls that bring them into 
a small compass. With this exception, life there was charm- 
ing. The mornings were spent in complete liberty. Between 
luncheon and dinner we hunted or rode on horseback with 
M. de Vinde, who was enthusiastic over this form of exercise. 
In the evening, after the ladies' promenade, we played society 
games, and improvised charades or proverbs. The entire stock 
of costumes was at our disposal. Despreaux was incomparable 
in these little plays ; Desfaucherets, good ; whilst I held an 
honourable position. Especially was I a great decorator. On 
one occasion when Mme. de Vinde's birthday was approaching, 
we had counted on having the fine portrait that Gerard had 
just painted of herself and daughter. Unfortxmately, it was 
still in the artist's studio. M. de Vinde was in despair. 
" Leave that to me," I said to him. " We'll have it by 
to-morrow evening." I had seen the portrait once, and my 
visual memory and facility of fingers for this sort of work was 
great. Mounting to the lumber-room, we chose a picture of 
about the same size, but so black that you could see nothing 



150 BARON DE FRENILLY 

on it, carried it to M. de Vinde's private room, and bolted the 
door ; and whilst he was grinding the colours, I, with white 
chalk, sketched in Gerard"'s picture. Then with pinks I 
painted the heads and hands, with brown the hair, with white 
the girl's dress, with yellow that of the mother, and with a 
piece of red paper represented a little scarlet shoe that was one 
of the characteristics of the picture. Eyes, noses, mouths, 
shadows, even a piano and a curtain falling upon it — nothing 
was forgotten. By daylight it was a terrible daub, but when, 
on the following evening, at the far end of a large well-lit 
salon, we were concluding a proverb composed around the 
subject of the picture's arrival from Paris, the illusion, on the 
rising of the curtain, was so complete that the good Mme. de 
Vinde cried out in astonishment. 

Magnanville has been razed and Mme. de Vinde has sold 
the materials. Fifteen years later, when passing through 
Mantes, I looked towards the heights and no longer saw that 
noble building where I had spent so many happy days.'' 

My sister's accouchement brought me back to Paris at the 
end of November 1797. It was exceedingly laborious, the 
famous and brutal Baudelocque finding it necessary to sacrifice 
the child to save the mother. As a result, she whom I had 
ever seen full of gaiety became sad and melancholy ; she whose 
health had been so flourishing remained sickly. Having no 
child to suckle, she fell into the hands of Alphonse Le Roy, 
who did not believe in milk ailments ; he treated her — the 
ass and charlatan that he was — in such a manner that in three 
years the woman with the strongest constitution that I have 
known was led to the grave. 

I am speaking as little as possible about public events. It 
is necessary, however, to retrace my steps a little in order to 
say a few words in reference to the 18th of Fructidor (Sep- 
tember 4, 1797), which again threw France into disorder. It 
would soon be two years since four worn-out hacks and a trace- 
horse had been harnessed to the pole of the coach of State. 

1 Vinde, in despair at his daughter's death, went to live at the Chateau de la 
Celle Saint-Cloud, where he died in 1843. Of Magnanville there remained 
only the outbuildings, now owned by the Comte de Gramont {Intermddiaire 
for April 30, 1906, p. 635).— A, C, 



THE 18th OF FRUCTIDOR 151 

They had passed from blood to mire, and from a demagogy 
to an oHgarchy ; from the carmagnole and sabots they had 
jumped to embroidery, feathers, and lace ; for, by force of 
experience, they had come to recognise this great principle, 
that superior persons are necessary in society. As these were 
no longer to be found, they had set about making them. Ten- 
century aristocrats were lacking, so they had made some whose 
pedigrees dated back twenty-four hours. It is true that these 
were slight, but their owners' dirty top-boots were embellished 
with so much gold and velvet that there could be no doubt of 
the deep respect the people would have when they saw those 
five ostentatious men march past, followed by their five or six 
ministers — the Crispins of the comedy — in similar dress. I 
have actually seen them thus marching around the Champ de 
Mars, and without a smile on their faces. What made us 
laugh, on the other hand, was the sight of Talleyrand limping 
after lame Larevelliere-Lepeaux. They had been provided 
with a guard, decorations, a furnished palace — and there you 
had an established Government ! What is perhaps the most 
astounding thing of all is that the performance of this 
disgusting farce lasted five years. 

The wind then changed, and we had what was called the 
" little Terror," which for some time spread discouragement 
and disquietude in Paris. However, few well-known people 
were persecuted ; first of all, because the most important, like 
Barthelemy and others, were already in another hemisphere ; and 
secondly, because good society was at that time almost entirely 
unconcerned with affairs. Its existence and fortune were being 
played for in its presence ; it looked on at the game but did 
not touch the dice. 

To return to the subject of the Directory, two of that 
pentarchy (one of whose members was renewed annually) — 
Carnot and Barthelemy, the latter the only honest man of the 
band, were driven out by the 18th of Fructidor. The three 
conquerors were Barras, a good Provencal nobleman, a roue, 
who was given charge of the department of gaming, wine, and 
women ; Rewbell, a sort of wild youth from the office of an 
Alsacian procureur; and that poor little Angevine Larevelliere- 
Lepeaux. I recollect the last-named only on account of his 



152 BARON DE FRENILLY 

famous theurgy of the " theophilanthropes," whom the people 
called les Jilous en troupe. The Convention had recognised 
the Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul. The 
Directory made a gigantic stride by authorising a cult. Poor 
Saint-Roch was chosen for the trial. It was not long since the 
actor Monvel had been seen there mounting the pulpit and 
shouting to God : " No ; thou art not God. If thou art, 
prove it ; thunder and crush me." God had not thundered, 
consequently he did not exist ; the conclusion was perfectly 
clear. Circumstances had now entirely changed. We saw at 
Saint-Roch a procession of young men and girls wearing blue 
and white serge cloaks ; the former paid twenty-four sous a day, 
the latter fifteen, and who carried paper garlands and baskets of 
wheatears or fruit to offer them to Larevilliere"'s God, whilst 
singing little songs to the accompaniment of the organ. I saw 
this comedy once or twice, but as only the actors were paid the 
church was empty. ^ 

Nevertheless, I narrowly escaped serving this detested 
Directory. In those days, when things seemed to be veering 
towards an aristocracy, Terray and I, who were of the same 
age and opinions, thought of escaping from the lazy life that 
oppressed us, and had we been offered some honourable post in 
the diplomatic service, we should probably not have refused it. 
I confess this wretched thought and Terray has done as much, 
as he has since refused positions mider Bonaparte. I remember 
that at a dinner given at M. de Stael's, Bourgoing, who knew 
my thoughts, proposed that I should accompany him to his 
German embassy. Fortunately I considered this debut too 
insignificant and declined. Goodness knows where such a pre- 
liminary step would have led me ! 

At that dinner I met two men whom I saw for the first time, 
at least in a drawing-room, and who merit mention. One was 
Talleyrand, the defunct Bishop of Autun, on whom I had not 
set eyes since July 14, 1790, the day of his drenched mass. 
This revolutionary of the Constituent Assembly had fled before 
the revolutionaries of the Convention ; and, after trailing his 
leg on th,^ banks of the Scioto for four years, had returned to 

1 Of, in regard to the Tliiophilanthropes, M. A. Mathiez's excellent book, 
1904.— A. C. 



LABORIE 153 

France to seek his fortune, with a frock-coat on his back and 
fifteen louis in his purse, as he proudly used to say. Mme. de 
Stael, who had friends as well as enemies everywhere, took pity 
on him and made Barras see that the Directory could not find 
a baser or more famished rascal of quality, a more shameless 
and crafty Figaro. In short, she succeeded in making him a 
Minister of Foreign Affairs, and on the following day, awaiting 
the arrival of the good Mme. Grant to rid himself, in the eyes 
of his new masters, of his episcopal stain, he appointed as 
ministerial agents three of the boldest and most dishonoured 
men in France : M. de Jarente, the ex-Bishop of Orleans, 
which is saying everything ; M. de Sainte-Foy, ex- treasurer of 
Comte d'Artois, a fraudulent bankrupt that had escaped 
hanging ; and Comte de Montrond.^ 

The other was M. Laborie, a little unfrocked Oratorian, 
former tutor to Frederic d'Houdetot and Caroline de La 
Briche, a man slender enough to slip anywhere, supple enough 
to bend himself to anything, and bold enough to attain any- 
thing ; moreover, a good fellow, with a good heart, good 
feelings and considerable wit, but as though bitten by a 
tarantula and tormented by a desire for perpetual movement, 
which made him throw himself headlong into other people's 
business. He had amassed a small sum of money with which 
he shortly afterwards purchased a share in the Jowrnal des 
Debats, which has since brought him in sixty thousand francs 
a year. But I must not anticipate, for I shall more than once 
come across him.^ 

Baron de Mackau was still unemployed, or rather laid by.' 

1 Jarente, Bishop of Orleans in 1788, is called by Dufort de Cheverny a 
lunatic and a villain {M6moires, vol. ii. pp. Ill and 139). La Marck calls 
Sainte-Foy a faithless man — " un homme sans foi," ready to sell himself for the 
highest price ( Corres. with Mirabeau, vol. ii. p. 51). As to Montrond (1768- 
1843), a keen study by Welschinger may be consulted (Revue de Paris, 
February 1, 1895).— A. C. 

2 An excellent judgment, which is confirmed by Sainte-Beuve's : " Laborie, 
whom I knew well, ever on the beg, ever whispering, ever writing little illegible 
letters, the agent of everybody, trotting from Talleyrand or Beugnot to Daunou, 
mixed up and meddling with newspapers, not a bad man and even obliging, 
but too much a party agent not to be disquieting and sometimes harmful." 
Cf. Norvins' Mimorial, vol. ii. pp. 267-270.— A. C. 

3 He was not, in fact, re-employed, in spite of his efforts at the time of the 
Peace of Basle and under the Consulate. — A. C. 



154 BARON DE FR£NILLY 

Though he strove his hardest to make the Directory see how 
useful a man of the old regime would be to it, — a noble lord 
who consented to be a fool, a republican and its very humble 
servant, he wasted both his time and his music, for he gave 
little political concerts at which diplomatists abounded. There 
was always a good assembly of men, but ladies were very rare, and 
those you met were of doubtful reputation. Among them was 
the beautiful Mme. Tallien, who, dishonoured against her will, 
succeeded in getting herself pardoned. It was ten years since I 
had seen this star for the first time at a ball at Mme. d'Aucour's. 
She was fifteen years of age and her mother thirty. Six months 
later this rose was prostituted to a young rake named M. de 
Fontenay, whom I saw shortly afterwards when on his way with 
her to Madrid to see his father-in-law, M. de Cabarrus. He 
was provided with an album containing the addresses of all the 
files de joie to be found on the road. This infamous fellow 
degenerated the morals and principles of a child who, separated 
from him by force, remained a good and adorable woman, — a 
woman without a rudder, with a fragile heart and a Spanish 
temperament. 

After her I distinctly remember Mme. Rewbell, a stout 
German who mangled the French language rather badly, but 
the wife of a director of affairs and before whom the baron 
displayed his liberalism. Her companion was one of those 
women who for fifteen years remain at the age of thirty : very 
thin, drawn in, and made up, — in technical language fort sucee, 
much exhausted, through her life of privations ; but neverthe- 
less a very good and polite woman, though, like all Creoles, 
without ability. For this was Mile, de la Pagerie, wife of the 
fine dancer Beauharnais whom a cross caper had led to the 
Constituent and thence to the scaffold. Mme. de Beauharnais 
and her two children had remained without bread, and through 
hunger and her temperament became Barras' official mistress. 
We know the remainder of the story. Tired of her, Barras 
got rid of her by giving her the Italian army as a dowry. The 
little general of the 13th of Vendemiaire accepted the dowry 
and the mistress, whom he later made an Empress, and the 

1 On the subject of Devin de Fontenay, cf. Charles Nauroy's pages in Le 
Curieux, vol. i. pp, 289-293.— A. C. 



FINANCIAL EMBARRASSMENT 155 

marriage was such a poverty-stricken one that old General de 
Nuce, a friend of the lady and since my country neighbour, told 
me, a long time afterwards, that he had provided the money to 
dress little Hortense, since Queen of Holland, and little Eugene, 
since Viceroy of Italy, for the wedding. 

At the beginning of 1 798 the state of the finances had almost 
reached its lowest point. A gold louis sold for nearly 24,000 
francs. An assignat of three hundred lixyres was given for the 
running of an errand, one of five hundred for a cab ride, — and 
this was bad payment ! Shopkeepers went down on their knees 
to obtain a crown piece for what they would formerly have sold 
at double the price. A large number refused to sell or would 
only sell for hard cash. But this had passed into the country 
places or into the pockets of usurers. People lived on from day 
to day and by contracting ruinous loans, saying : " A little 
longer ; this is going to end." I have known my mother 
borrow at 4 per cent, per month ; it was for a month only, 
but the time dragged out to a year, and yet she received merely 
a louis as the rental of the Hotel de Jonzac and two or three 
louis as her rentes. In these extremities, she refused to dispose 
of any part of her capital to pay off debts and avoid fresh ones. 
Perhaps she was right. On the other hand, however, she 
would not diminish the expenses of her household. '* I spend 
nothing on myself," she once said, showing me her little flat 
cap and white dressing-gown. " But my children must retain 
their position in society, it is necessary that you should find a 
wife and that my old servants should live. Let us make one 
more effort ; this is going to end." Poor mother ! She died 
before the storm was over. Every Saturday she gave a dinner 
to certain old and ruined friends, including Carmontelle, and 
as each guest ate to satisfy himself for the next few days she 
called it her '"''jour d'ogres " — " the ogres' day," which good 
Linger, the cook, turned into "jomt de dogues " — " the bull- 
dogs' day." 

I myself was in somewhat embarrassed circumstances. Not 
that my private expenditure was not well ordered, but when 
liabilities once exceed assets order merely serves to show that 
you are ruining yourself. In truth, I had as yet but one 
creditor. This was my tailor, a lieutenant of Monsieur's 



156 BARON DE FRENILLY 

guards, the owner of the Hotel de Lastic, in Paris, a fine estate 
in the provinces, and three milhon francs' worth of property, 
Dasse by name, who had come from Beam in sabots, who at 
fifty could neither read nor write, who had a difficulty in even 
signing his name, but who possessed a genius for fashion and the 
cutting of coats. He had become three or four times a millionaire 
by using his scissors, which he never relinquished in the beauti- 
ful gilded and bemirrored salon of his Hotel de Lastic, except 
when he put on his ceremonial black coat and set off, with a 
little chapeau claque under his arm and his bald head quite 
bare, to pay his respects to customers ; for he was exceedingly 
respectful and much more aristocratic than many courtiers, 
who by emigrating had caused him to lose large sums. I liked 
him, therefore, for being an aristocrat, a good tailor, and an 
honest man ; for such he was, and more, as was later proved to 
me. Dasse had several bills against me, dating back some 
years ; but as he gave thirty years' credit to all the court he 
did not trouble me about them. But he knew that in my 
embarrassment I had contracted one or two debts at 8 or 
1 per cent. Now, what did this fine fellow do ? During one 
of my absences he withdrew my promissory notes, and on my 
return settled the whole with me at the rate of 5 per cent. 
Tell me how many society men would have been capable of 
such an action ! 

Nobody will be astonished at my decision to advance no 
further along a path that apparently had no ending. Accord- 
ing to my customary methods, I took energetic measures and 
made a vow that until the end of the crisis I would spend not 
a penny more. So, at the beginning of January 1798, on 
leaving Mme. Mallet's ball — -the finest of the winter — at four 
o'clock in the morning, I stepped into the diligence with Belin 
and Crispin, after giving orders to sell both my horse and 
cabriolet, and fled to Loches ! There I was the happiest man 
on earth — free and self-satisfied. I had a good supply of 
books ; Chevalier de Vigny's library was at my disposal. I 
had a pretty residence, a roaring fire, good health, good cook- 
ing, and peace of mind. Thus, between my dog and my 
my steward, did I pass four months in a studious retreat. I 
was dragged from it by my mother's illness. She was rapidly 



DEATH OF MY MOTHER 157 

advancing towards the end of her life, and increasing financial 
embarrassments made her cast a sorrowful glance on her child- 
ren's future. I was unmarried and ray sister was childless. 
Everything disquieted her. She began to eat less, and could 
no longer digest her food. Finally, she saw the condition she 
was in, and from that moment exclusively occupied herself over 
the finding of a country house for my sister, so that she could 
leave the spot where she was to lose her mother. This, she 
said, was a sick woman's fancy ; country air would re-establish 
her. So our days were spent in looking for a place that might 
please her. At last we found what was suitable at Auteuil, 
and in three days the house was habitable. On hearing this — 
and she would hear all details — she experienced her last moments 
of joy. " I will go there next week," she said to me. But two 
days later, on July 12, 1798, she died. Two hours afterwards 
my sister was taken to Auteuil, whilst I remained to fulfil my 
sorrowful duties. 

This country residence at Auteuil was a very simple but 
becoming little house with a small garden, adjoining Boileau's 
house — then occupied by the painter Robert — and the Bois de 
Boulogne. When the seals were broken, we sold what furniture 
we no longer required. Money was beginning to reappear, and 
to give you an idea of how articles of luxury had depreciated 
in value, it will suffice to say that a superb and absolutely new 
carpet made for the large drawing-room at the Hotel de Jonzac 
was sold for thirty francs ! After these transactions had been 
carried out, we sub-let the Faubom-g Poissonniere house and 
dismissed the servants. All of them, under my mother's will, 
received pensions ; and it is only three years since I paid off 
the last. The only servitor we kept was Linger, afterwards 
my sister's cook — a good fellow, rather stupid, and a poor one 
at his profession, but very honest and devoted. 



CHAPTER VI 
1798-1799 

Poverty— Norvins — Lacretelle the Younger — Mine, de La Briche — 
Caroline Mole — Mathieu — Mmes. de Fezensac and de Vintimille — 
Mme. d'Houdetot, Saint-Lanabert and M. d'Houdetot — Mme. de 
Eohan-Chabot — The Fashions — The Theatres — Lectures — VilUgia- 
tures — Le Eaincy — Groslay — L'Ermitage — Gretry — Saint- Germain — 
Le Marais — The Comtesse de Damas and the Comtesse de Chastellux — 
Mme. Pastoret — Adrien de Mun — M. de Vaines — Pasquier — Alexandre 
de La Borde — Chateaubriand and Mme. de Beaumont — Mme de 
Lubersac — Champlatreux — Sannois — Franconville — Mmes. de B,^- 
musat and de Nansouty — Mery — Christian de Lamoignon. 

My life was now quite changed. I spent my leisure hours at 
Auteuil in drawing up a long and painful balance-sheet show- 
ing the state of our fortune. Fortunately we had a notary of 
the old school, a man whose probity equalled his prudence — 
good little Rameau who became famous and lame through his 
adventure at the Pont au Change, where he resided. One 
morning, his office, which was suspended over the Seine, 
collapsed, and the poor fellow fell eighty feet on to the water. 
Every morning I set out from Auteuil, worked with him, and 
returned home to dine with my sister. The season had 
.scattered all my friends, and deep mourning excused me going 
to seek them at a distance. 

To complete the chapter of my troubles, a letter from 
Aubepin informed me that by a private deed, signed by my 
mother, the AUigny estate had been transferred to Barreau, 
who, audacious knave that he was, had obtained his mistress's 
signature by undue means. Aubepin — a petty clerk who 
trembled in his master's presence — had never dared to say a 

word about it. But after my mother's death, his wife, a little 

168 



SACRIFICES 159 

less stupid than he was, put him into such a terrible fright at 
the thought of a criminal trial in which he would figure as an 
accomplice that he decided to reveal everything. We imme- 
diately summoned the little man to Paris, obtained his 
confession in the presence of witnesses, and, after severely 
reprimanding him, sent him back with the order to keep our 
secret as he had kept that of his rascally master. I then 
wrote to Barreau to the effect that my mother, just before 
dying, had confided in us that she had made a fictitious sale 
of Alligny in order to save the estate for her children in case 
of confiscation, that he had done quite right in keeping silence, 
but that, as all occasion for fear had now gone by, the time 
had come to annul the deed. The scoundrel knew that there 
was not a word of truth in all this ; but the matter was a 
serious one, involving as it did the obtaining of a signature by 
fraud, theft committed by a servant, and abuse of confidence. 
He would have got hard labour for life with a certainty, for 
hanging was abolished. I opened a back door through which 
he could escape, furnished him with a plausible excuse for 
backing out of his situation, and with an opportunity of 
showing his honoiu* and innocence. He took fright, and 
adopting the honest means placed at his disposal, sent me the 
deed. Since then I have had no further news of this scamp. 

We then sold this Alligny estate to the farmer who rented 
it, and very advantageously — viz., on a basis of 10 per cent, 
net. This was neither our last nor our greatest sacrifice. We 
had to sell the beautiful Hotel de Jonzac and its charming 
garden, reserving merely the little hotel built by my mother 
during the last eight years. The larger house was given 
away for one hundred and forty thousand francs. In short, 
everything was liquidated and paid. 

However, seated — like Marius — in the midst of the ruins of 
our Carthage, I said to myself : " Some day you will have an 
income of one hundred thousand francs."" It was an extra- 
vagant prophecy, yet it came true. If I were a believer in 
presentiments, I might recall the fact that, seventeen years 
later, during the Hundred Days, when I was saving even pence 
in London, whilst writing my Considerations sur une amiee de 
rhistoire de France, 1 drew up the indubitable plan of my 



160 BARON DE FRENILLY 

career. I must become a deputy, said I, a Councillor of State, 
and a peer of France. And I have attained all these positions ! 

The autumn of 1798 brought our sad retreat at Auteuil to 
an end. My sister's health declined daily. We returned to 
Paris. She took an apartment in the Rue du Helder, near 
the boulevards ; I, one in the Rue Buffault, at the corner of 
the Rue Montmartre. Mine was on the first floor, and con- 
sisted of an ante-chamber, a very pretty oval drawing-room 
with three windows, a study, a bedroom, and another large 
room, in addition to a cabinet de toilette, wardrobe, servants' 
bedrooms, kitchen, stable and coach-house — the whole, new 
and complete, for a thousand francs. Two horses, a cabriolet 
and a groom completed my retinue. Belin's wife looked after 
the household. 

It was about this time that Norvins and Lacretelle the 
younger were imprisoned at the Force — an event that created 
a sensation in our class of society, where they were much loved. 
Norvins, the youngest of the four Montbreton brothers, about 
my own age and as old a friend as Tourolle, was the last man 
in the world to be put into prison ; for he was incessantly in 
action, inexhaustible as regards spirits and humour, and so 
naturally original that when he was in society one had to 
laugh willy nilly, even though you might have to say, like that 
nobleman who wept at a Capucine's sermon, " he knows not 
what he says ! " That is what often happened in Nor\nns' 
case. He was incapable of planning the smallest conspiracy. 
He had an exceedingly giddy head and his conduct was any- 
thing but edifying. He possessed many women without caring 

for any one of them. Poor d'E , whom he had also 

captured, once said to him, after a tender interlude : " Ah ! 
Norvins, you do not love me." " Of course I don't love you," 
he replied. " But I've got you, and what more do you want ? " 
His thoughtlessness ruined him, made him commit a hundred 
stupidities, squander his money, and miss a score of positions, 
for under the Empire he applied for all of them. He was 
attached to the San Domingo expedition and returned in a 
dying condition. He was police commissary at Rome and 

1 More correctly, Director-General of Police for the Departments of the Tiber 
and Trasimeno. Of. his Memorial, vol. iii. p. 307. — A. C. 



LACRETELLE 161 

returned with many pictures and maledictions. He was 
bedecked with white at the Restoration of 1814, obtained 
nothing, and so adopted the tricolour at that of 1815. He 
was finally faithful to this last colour, none other wishing to 
have anything to do with him. He has married, produced 
books and children, and enjoys his friends' forgetfulness and 
the world's disdain. On my return from England I went to 
see his brother Urtubise, accompanied by my twelve-year-old 
son. We met Norvins on the staircase, whereupon he threw 
himself on my neck. Pulling my coat-tail, Olivier whispered : 
" What ! you allow yourself to be embraced by that man ? " 
It was Norvins who wrote that the Bourbons would return 
with the baggage of the Allies. 

Lacretelle the younger hid under a cold, indifferent, calm 
and singularly careless exterior ^ an impetuous, passionate, and 
even fiery soul. I am wrong in using the word " hid," for he 
concealed nothing. This characteristic led to my calling him 
"a decanter of boiling orgeat," and the description stuck. 
When very young he had come from Lorraine, and Mme. Le 
Senechal, who liked to bring out young men of talent, had 
introduced him into the best society. Although following an 
academic career, although his dull and wearisome brother was 
far advanced in philosophism, the Revolution had not led him 
astray, and he professed wise opinions which brought him many 
friends. I had then the honour to be among them, and I 
believe that he repaid me by a true friendship. Later he was 
reproached with having exercised the Press censorship under 
Fouche, but he rid himself of this stain by the joy with which 
he lost his position under the Restoration. Since then he has 
written several estimable works that have only two faults : a 
slight affectation in their style and an exaggerated impartiality. 
He was elected to the Academy, became a friend of the Minis- 
ter Villele, experienced some disappointments, and turned 
Liberal. We then ceased to see each other. 

Lacretelle and Norvins were, therefore, companions in mis- 
fortune. But they were well lodged, had good food, and 

1 Lacretelle the younger (1765-1855), journalist, professor at the Faculty of 
Paris, member of the French Academy in 1813, author of a Precis Historique 
de la Revolution (1801-1806, 6 vols.), and Dix annees d'epreuves. — A. C. 

L 



162 BARON DE FRENILLY 

received all their friends. This prison of Cocagne, which looked 
on to the street, recalled the ancient Bastille, where people 
used to have themselves imprisoned for pleasure and out of 
vanity. They occupied their leisure time for the benefit of 
posterity by collaborating in a tragedy, entitled Aristomene, 
which they read to us scene by scene, and which Norvins again 
read to us at Bourneville some years later. 

In the winter of 1799 I took advantage of my agreeable 
apartment to give a few soirees. My sister did the honours. 
I have already mentioned some of the acquaintances whom I 
had formed ; I will now speak of the others. 

Order and the heart require that I should start with the 
name of Mme. de La Briche, whose friendship was the pivot 
of my society. She had been a Mile. Prevost, of an honest 
and not very rich middle-class family of Nancy, and was the 
niece of a M. Le Maistre, who had made a large fortune in the 
linen trade — a curious man, who, having bought the estate of 
Marais, twelve leagues from Paris, pulled down the chateau, 
and, bit by bit, broke up the materials, so that everything 
might be new in the one he wished to build. When it was 
finished he kept it, as it were, under a glass shade, putting on 
list-slippers to walk over the parquetry and gloves to show and 
touch the candlesticks. The heiress of this fortune and fine 
domain married M. de la Live de La Briche, Introducer of 
Ambassadors, brother of Live de JuUy, Live d'Epinay, and 
Mme. d'Houdetot, and early became a widow. Everybody has 
known her heart and her star. Under — on first meeting her — 
a cold and icy exterior that offended and intimidated even 
those gentlemen, and especially those ladies, who compared her 
welcome with the brilliancy of her house and society, she was 
the simplest of persons, the most candid of souls. She showed 
a sweet and intimate familiarity, an unchangeable equality of 
temper, boundless indulgence, and not a sign of affectation ; 
and I defy anybody to have conversed with her twice without 
perceiving that she was the person in Paris who best rid you 
of timidity and put you the most promptly at your ease. Her 
star was constant. Ever rich, ever surrounded by an amiable 
family, numerous friends and the most brilliant people in 
France, loving society and its pleasures, her life followed one 



MATHIEU MOLE 163 

path from beginning to end — in the same house, in the same 
company, and in the midst of the same tastes and habits. 
Kingdoms crumbled into ruins without affecting her/ Her 
daughter Carohne, the sweet Mme Mole, possessed all her 
mother's simplicity, and, like her, that first icy indifference, or, 
if you like, dryness, under which were hidden kindness, gaiety, 
and naturalness. In brief, she was a slightly effaced copy of 
her mother. As to Mathieu — I give him this name because 
for many years he did not wish that I should call him by any 
other — what shall I say about him ? What no one knows : 
the sort of man he was then. He was the son of President 
de Champlatreux, one of the victims of the guillotine. His 
grandfather built, near Luzarches, the magnificent Chateau de 
Champlatreux, which the Revolution turned into a hospital. 
The family's fortune came from Samuel Bernard, whose famous 
diamond I have seen in Mathieu's hands. He had inherited 
something more than this, for his long, oval handsome face, 
with the most beautiful black eyes in the world, was very 
Jewish.^ However, it bore a resemblance to that of First 
President Mole, as represented in Vien's portrait, which had 
been given to the family by Louis XVI. At the pillaging of 
Champlatreux this picture was respected on the ground that it 
depicted " the triumph of the sans-culottes " ! As regards 
wealth, Mathieu had inherited less. His mother, in retirement 
at Vannes, was still living. His sister — not yet Mme. de 
Lamoignon — divided with him, and I have heard them say 
that their financial burdens were so heavy that they had not 
more than an income of six thousand francs to expend. He 
was then barely nineteen, of pleasing access, cheerful and open 
in character, keen-minded, and with a taste for profound 
thinking ; he was a simple, good fellow, as yet without am- 
bition. We long corresponded with each other, and up to the 
time when he began to hate me, he loved me as much as he 
was able.^ 

1 Cf. as regards Adelaide Edmee PrSvost or Mme. de La Briche, Norvins' 
Memorial, vol. i. pp. 38-43, and Pasquier's Memoires, vol. iii. p. 231. — A. C. 

2 Samuel Bernard, son of the engraver of the same name, was not a Jew, but 
a Protestant, like his father, who was baptized at the Charenton Temple in 1651. 
He was converted to Catholicism, again like his father, in 1685. — A. C. 

3 Mathieu Louis Mole (1781-1855), prefect of the Cote d'Or in 1807, Comte 



164 BARON DE FRENILLY 

After Mme. de La Briche and her children, let me speak of 
her amiable nieces. They were also the nieces of the celebrated 
banker to the Court, La Borde,^ a man prodigiously rich and 
prodigiously sad, and who had lost all relish for enjoyment, 
apart from music. His good and amiable wife, a Mile, de 
Nettines of Brussels, was the sister of the good and amiable 
Mme. de La Live de Jully, Mme. de La Briche's sister-in-law, 
and the latter had two charming daughters whom I wish to 
mention. When I knew them they were women of wit and 
character. The elder had married the Marquis de Montesquiou- 
Fezensac, a great lord if ever there were one, but a sort of 
feudal bear who, after his wife had presented him with two 
sons, whom he left her to dispose of in Paris, lived in the 
Pyrenees. He was brother of the celebrated Abbe. One of 
these two boys died three or four years afterwards when still a 
child ; the elder, Aimery, is now Due de Fezensac and a grand- 
father. Mme. de Fezensac was sweet, lively, ever occupied over 
others, and a model of grace and obligingness. Her only 
defect was that of being a bad-tempered gambler. Her sister, 

and Director-General of the Eoad-surveying Department, minister under all 
rigimes, and peer in 1815. About 1808 he married Alesise Charlotte Marie 
Josephe de la Live de La Briche. His sister, Louise Marie Augustine Felicite 
Mole (1781-1852), married in 1798 Anne Pierre Christian Vicomte de Lamoignon 
(1770-1828), who was made a peer of France in 1815. — A. C. 

1 M. de La Borde had an income of eighteen hundred thousand livres, of 
which he made very noble use. " Your Highness," he once said to the Prince 
de Conti, "has the wisdom to live like a private gentleman, whilst I have the 
stupidity to live like a prince." When travelling from Paris to his Chateau de 
Mereville, near ^fitampes, he had three relays of five horses. Going there one 
day in company with his nephew the Vicomte de Vintimille, the latter said, 
" Uncle, when you want to sell the first pair, you'll give me the preference, 
won't you ? " The very same evening the horses were in his stable, and the 
viscount's wife asked her uncle the price. " The pleasure of kissing you," he 
replied, "if you do not find that too dear." At his table each guest found on 
his plate a list of valuable wines and marked with a pencil those he desu-ed. I 
heard M. de Bougainville, his intimate friend, say that, on his inventory being 
made out, there were found twenty-four thousand bottles of West Indian 
liqueur. When Philippe-Egalite sold the Palais Royal gallery, it was he who 
bought it. This millionaire was the most unhappy, saddest, and most bored 
of men, and his misfortune survived him. He lost two sons, fellow travellers 
with La Perouse, in a wreck. His eldest daughter, the Marquise de Cars, died 
young of consumption ; the second, the beautiful Mme. de Noailles, died in- 
sane ; he himself perished on the scatfold ; and of his two other sons the only 
one to live was Alexandre de La Borde, a good and amiable fool. — F. 



MME. D'HOUDETOT 165 

the Vicomtesse de Vintimille, with whom I was more particularly 
connected, was quite different ; she was spirited to the point of 
impetuosity, lively both as regards character and face, clever to 
the point of originality, and an ardent lover of pleasure, wit 
and adornment. She was, in reality, a very good woman, 
although rather egotistical. And how could she help not being 
that ? She never had had either children or a husband, the 
former not having been born, and the latter never having known 
how to produce them. Quite young, charming and newly 
married, without having yet learnt anything, she used to inform 
everybody in the most simple manner : " I believe I am 
enceinte ^ ; whilst her big, thin husband made a sign behind 
her back to the contrary. With the exception of this 
deficiency, which alone concerned the household, this poor 
viscount was a good piece of society furniture. Immediately 
on becoming acquainted with the family, Mme. de Vintimille 
took possession of me ; for a long time showed me marks 
of honour ; and for some years corresponded.^ 

I will now speak of the second pillar of the Faubourg Saint 
Honore colony — the good, amiable, and eternally young Vicom- 
tesse d'Houdetot,^ who made my acquaintance when I was in 
my cabriolet at the Marais and came uninvited to my first 
supper. She was then as when she appeared for the first time 
at Rousseau's Ermitage ^ : a laugher at etiquette, cheerful 
vivacious, witty, prolific in ingenious thoughts and happy 
phrases, passionately fond of pleasures, invariably indulgent — 
a woman who had never spoken ill of anybody or anything, 
who had retained from her youth the habit and need of loving, 
and, in addition to that, an ignoble ugliness, one of those 
voices which the people call rogomme (Anglice : spirits), and a 
treacherous eye which was looking sideways when it seemed to 
be looking you in the face. Poor Mme. d'Houdetot ! Her 
faculty of loving was then terribly exercised ; on the one hand, 

1 On the subject of the Fezensac and Vintimille families, see Norvins' 
Memorial, vol. i. p. 58 ; and for further particulars about the Lives, consult 
Mme. d'Epinay's Mimoires, as well as the works of Perey and Maugras on the 
Jeunesse and Les dernUres annies de Mme. d) Epinay. — A. 0. 

2 Of. Mme. de Eemusat's Mimoires, vol. i. p. 217. — A. 0. 

3 Confessions, vol. ii. p. 9. Her coach stuck in the mud, so she arrived on 
foot, in boots, piercing the air with peals of laughter. — ^A. C. 



166 BARON DE FRENILLY 

between her old husband and her aged lover ; on the other, 
between her son and the numerous brood which he had brought 
her back from America. 

Saint-Lambert — to begin with the keystone — lived at her 
house with all the propriety of a respectable liaison. For 
thirty years he had been the arbiter and master of the lady and 
the house. An Academician of the good old times, living on 
the glory of his Saisons, a dandy and a gourmand, he snubbed 
the poor viscountess, whom he called " the stewardess of his 
privations," though, with angelic patience, she ceaselessly 
looked after him. In the case of everybody else, Saint-Lambert 
was amiable and conciliatory. 

The second member of the household was the big, stout 
Vicomte d'Houdetot ; affectionate and polite, like a man who 
is not in his own house. His wife, whom he treated almost 
gallantly, was unfaithful to him with Saint-Lambert, who 
laughed over it ; yet these two men, lodging and sleeping next 
door to each other, lived together in the most perfect friendship. 

The poor viscountess found less happiness in her children. 
I will make an exception of her grandson, the amiable Frederic 
d"'Houdetot, the only child of a charming and ever-regretted 
daughter-in-law, a simple, good, cheerful, natural man, full of 
wit and good-nature, and who looked after his grandmother 
with the most tender devotion. But who has not heard of the 
follies of his father the Vicomte d'Houdetot, who in his youth 
was likewise amiable and witty, the image of his son, apart from 
common sense ? His career was shattered by a piece of sarcasm 
that made one half of the Coin-t laugh and revolted the other. 
Finding in the balboom at Versailles a love-letter written by a 
great lady in her own blood; he wrote these words at the end : 
" To be continued in our next," and threw it on the floor. Dis- 
graced and having squandered everything he had received from 
his parents, he emigrated to the West Indies. It was hoped 
that he would never be seen again, but one morning he re- 
appeared in his mother's study, escorted by a big Creole wife 
and ten to twelve children. Mme. d'Houdetot, whose goodness 
was inexhaustible, unhesitatingly and without a murmur adopted 
this improvised family, which thus snatched from her the ease 
and repose of her old age. 



FASHIONS IN 1799 167 

Every week Mme. d'Houdetot gave a dinner to a number of 
great men — nothing less, for I was amongst them, and a family 
supper, at which I was also a guest, for I was a great dancing 
and singing man, and very sociable. This supper was on 
a Thursday, and I was recruited for it by a lady who was with- 
out doubt my oldest acquaintance, since I saw her for the first 
time at the age of six. Mile. Le Clerq was reader to the 
Queen, a great musician, a painter of superior talent, and 
endowed with a thousand graces. She married M. de La 
Borde, a very distinguished Farmer-General, the author of a 
book on Switzerland, and a first-rate amateur musician and 
painter. He was one of my father's friends, and on that claim 
I was taken to see this young marvel, who then lived in one of 
the square pavilions of the Carrousel. The Terror came. 
M. de La Borde perished on the scaffold, and his widow — ever 
pretty and graceful — became the Duchesse de Rohan-Chabot. 
By her first husband, this poor little duchess had a son, the 
worst subject in France. She was always boasting that she was 
dying of hunger, and when she died, four years ago, six hundred 
thousand francs in bank-notes were found sewn up in her 
pockets. 

At these grand suppers ten or twelve politicians conversed 
around the fire, whilst everybody else played quinze, then the 
fashionable game. It owed its vogue to Laborie, who played 
wildly, throwing gold about in handfuls, and thus, to his cost, 
causing it to circulate most amusingly. Wise Tourolle lost as 
much as he was willing to lose and then left off*, won as much as 
he wanted and remained at the tables, but to play only ten or 
fifteen louis stakes, and leave off" when he began to lose. 

Paris was exceedingly brilliant during the winter of 1799. 
Fashions were beginning to undergo a revolution. For some 
time past men had changed their long, pointed, tight-waisted 
coats for a sort of sack called an Incroyable with a waist a foot 
broad, and their powdered hair for black, brown or light- 
coloured wigs with innumerable curls. We were bordering on 
the height of the ridiculous. Women, on the contrary, 
welcomed the Greek costume by degrees. Its first appearance 
had raised a general outcry, and it had long been left to 
actresses, filles de joie and crazy persons who put up their 



168 BARON DE FRENILLY 

charms by auction in drawing-rooms of average reputation, on 
public promenades and at the theatre. The aim of these 
ladies and the nee plus ultra of art was to show themselves as 
nude as possible without being absolutely naked. Thanks to 
this fashion, as Despreaux said in one of our songs : 

Grace 4 la mode 
On n'a rien d'cache 
On n'a rien d'cach6, c'est plus commode. 
On n'a rien d'cach6, 
J'en suis fSch6, 

Corsets had disappeared, then under petticoats, and afterwards 
sleeves. Many little girls appeared in flesh-coloured pantaloons. 
Women went about displaying either extra vagantlj'^ ample or 
scraggy bosoms, and either fat red arms or thin, dark-skinned 
ones with bony elbows. They wore either a wig a la Titus 
or a Grecian head-dress. The number of these Athenians 
who, in a few years, died of phthisis because they had danced 
in Paris in January in a costume suitable for the month of 
August on the banks of the Eurotas cannot be counted. This 
sharaelessness, which had to be allowed to run its course, 
explains why it was such a long time before the charming 
Grecian style of dressing the hair was adopted by people of 
good society. 

As to the theatres, the Opera, more unchangeable than the 
monarchy, had merely been removed from the Porte Saint 
Martin playhouse, which, they said, was falling into ruins, and 
yet which still exists, to that of La Montansier, opposite the 
King's Library. But it was no longer a gala theatre. People 
came to the foyer in boots and the gilded boxes were surmounted 
by a row of round caps. The Fran9ais had passed to the little 
Theatre de Louvois, where Picard played his first pieces, thence 
to the Theatre Feydeau, and finally from that wretched smoky 
place to the fine playhouse that Philippe Egalite had built for 
the company at the Palais Royal. The old company had come 
together : we had still Mole, Fleury, Monvel, Grandmenil, 
Contat, Raucourt, Dazincourt, Dugazon, Mme. Petit, who had 
become excellent, Mile. Mars at the height of her genius and 
charms, and Talma, — without counting Saint-Phal and Damas, 
who were of second-rate merit, and in addition to Mile, de 



THE THEATRES 169 

Garcins, a monotonous weeper, a modern Gaussin who made all 
Paris shed tears but whom I was never able to bear. The 
Italiens had at last lost their name by replacing the Fran9ais 
at the Theatre Feydeau. They no longer had Mme. Dugazon, 
but they had Mme. Saint- Aubin, a past-mistress in naturalness 
and grace, little Gavaudan, full of wit and prettinesses, and 
Mme. Gonthier, whom no one equalled or will equal. They 
also possessed Juliet, an actor who was both original and 
comic ; Martin, a bad-mannered comedian, a poor singer, and 
yet the public idol ; the brilliant Elleviou, ever unnatural, but 
with a grace and a verve that found supporters and perverted 
authors and actors, for in our day Gonthier and others played 
no one else than Elleviou, and Scribe did no more than imitate 
him. As authors they then had Du Paty and Saint-Just, as 
composers Cherubini, Boieldieu and Lam aria, that charming 
melodist who died too young. 

People of good society also attended two small theatres : 
the Vaudeville, which has never changed either the class of 
play it produced or its position, and the Theatre de Beaujolais, 
since called the Varietes. 

In addition to what we had, the people had its old theatres 
on the boulevards and two or three new ones the names of 
which I have forgotten. 

Such was Paris in the winter of 1799, and I can recollect 
nothing so agreeable as the private soirees at Mme. de Vinde's, 
who then occupied her beautiful Hotel de Grammont. 1 
finished almost all my evenings at her house. 

Early in the spring Terray and I made up our minds to 
attend Desfontaines' lectures on botany.^ The enterprise was 
a perilous one, for the lectures started at seven o'clock in the 
morning, at the Jardin des Plantes, and daily. It was a fine 
thing to attempt, a finer one to achieve, and we achieved it. 
Poor Terray, who was the laziest of men, reached my house 
from the Place Vendome at six o'clock, and we set off together, 
generally on foot, so as the better to enjoy the fine mornings. 
1 Rene Desfontaines (1752-1833), member of the Academj' of Sciences in 
1783, and the author of numerous works, including La Flore atlantique (1798), 
Catalogue des plantes du Jardin du roi (1801), V Histoire des arhres et arhrisseaux 
qui l}euvent Ure eultivis en pleine terre sur le sol de la France {IS(}2), and Ex- 
periences sur la f^condation artifieielle des plantes (1831). — A. C. 



170 BARON DE FRENILLY 

On the very first day, however, he thought of deserting. For^ 
on entering the hall, the first person he saw was Mme. de 
Noailles, still beautiful enough to soften the heart of a stone, 
and who had come to reside near the Jardin in order to follow 
the lectures. This Alcine had loved him, loaded him with 
favours, and then betrayed him, as she had done so many 
others. He had taken the matter seriously. On seeing her, 
he turned all sorts of colours, but she, smiling at him amiably, 
remained pink and white. 

At the same time I attended at the Lycee the lectures of 
young Brongniart, who probably knew much less than Des- 
fontaines, but could impart his knowledge much better.^ In 
the morning I listened to La Harpe's lectures at the Hotel de 
Bonneuil. 

My sister — ever getting worse — left Paris at this time to 
spend the fine weather at Loches. Poor sister ! I have kept 
her last correspondence written in that year ; it was still 
cheerful and piquant. 

From the beginning of June to the end of November the 
year with me passed uneventfully, sometimes in my study with 
Ariosto, the eighteenth century and my books, sometimes with 
my friends in the country. 

First of all I remember the Mallets' pretty country house at 
Clichy, on the heights of Livry, and backing on to the Bois de 
Montfermeil. 

Below Clichy lived the Comtesse Dillon at her Abbaye de 
Coulanges, with innumerable souvenirs of Mme. de Sevigne. 
One could still walk along her canal, in the avenue where she 
awaited the Provence coach, and in those woods of Le Raincy 
where she saw hunted the " almoners " of M. de Senlis. 

In passing in review these excursions in all directions, I miss 
Ivry which I loved so much, not on account of its very mono- 
tonous country, but because of M. and Mme. de Saint-Just, 
friends of my youth. Neither do I find Clayes, near Versailles, 
the house of the good and sweet Mme. L'Empereur. But I 
recollect very distinctly Groslay, between Deuil and Mont- 

1 Alexandre Brongniart (1770-1847), who published an Ussai d'une classifica- 
tion naturelle des rejjtiles (1805), delivered lectures on zoology at the Lycee. — 
A. C. 



ROUSSEAU'S ERMITAGE 171 

morency. Good Mme. d'Esquelbecq had a country house at 
the far end of Groslay, and I sometimes took a pleasure, at the 
conclusion of the play at the Opera at half-past eight, of 
galloping there, on fine summer evenings, and arriving at half- 
past nine or ten for supper. It was at these soirees that I made 
the acquaintance of Vigee, a very mediocre poet, but a hand- 
some and, at bottom, good fellow, although as pretentious as 
his sister, the celebrated Mme. Le Brun, was simple.^ 

A quarter of a league from Groslay stood Rousseau's Ermi- 
tage, then occupied by Gretry. We made a pilgrimage there, 
and it must be admitted that never did a bear choose a better 
den. I do not refer to the little house, but to the solitude of 
the place, with its impenetrable forests of century-old chestnut 
trees, each spreading sixty feet, and to that terrace of limes 
where you could still see Rousseau^s table and the tall glass 
vases by the light of which, on summer nights, he composed 
Emile, copied out Julie for Mme. d'Houdetot, and wrote the 
Contrat social. Gretry's attitude was very curious. He was 
astonished that people should come to the Ermitage to worship 
a divinity other than Gretry. He tried to discover whether 
pilgrims came to honour the great man who was dead or the 
one who was living, and would gladly have given orders that 
only his own admirers should be allowed to enter. The 
worthy man, who was ever as self-conceited as he is in his 
Memoirs, gave us rather a cold reception. But the fault was 
his. Why had he gone to live at the Ermitage ? 

I also spent, that summer, some pleasant days at Malmaison, 
in the chateau of M. du Moley, whom we fortunately never saw 
there. Although very far from rivalling Magnanville, Marais, 
and Champlatreux, it was a fine private residence. Bonaparte 
enriched it, without increasing its size. The ground floor con- 
sisted of a long suite of rooms very tastefully decorated. At 
one end, that nearest Mont Valerien, was the dining-room, and 
at the opposite one, Mme. du Moley's apartment, separated 
from the main road to Saint Germain by a terraced garden. 

1 Vigee died insane. He lived at Mme. Le Sengchal's. He had appointed 
himself steward of her house, and early in the morning, in his nightcap and 
shirt, used to go and sit at the carriage entrance to verify everything that came 
in or went out. — F. 



172 BARON DE FRENILLY 

It contained a beautiful and charming library in solid 
mahogany, a room redolent of the memory of the Abbe 
Delille, who, as Mme. du Moley's poet and friend, had been the 
divinity of that temple. 

Whilst on the way to Magnanville, where I believe I passed 
part of the summer, I made a little sojourn at Saint Germain, 
to which my aunt De Chazet had retired in order to be near 
what remained of her adorable Felicite. It was with some 
anguish of heart that I compared her modest residence on the 
Grande Place du Chateau with the luxury with which I had 
seen her surrounded in Paris. We went to a soiree cTexercices 
at Mme. Campan's educational establishment. This was a 
girls' ball, and young Hortense de Beauharnais, thanks to her 
grace and her father-in-law's reputation, shone considerably. 
As to Annette de Chazet, she was still a child of nine or ten. 

Continuing my zigzag route, I went from Saint Germain to 
visit another aunt, Mme. de Thesigny, who was vegetating two 
leagues away at the Chateau du Fay. There also I felt some 
anguish on finding that this spot, formerly so full of laughter, 
so animated by the younger members of our family, had become 
the castle of the Sleeping Beauty. 

At last I once more reached the Mantes road and arrived at 
Magnanville. Terray's marriage had then been arranged, and 
it seems to me that it took place in the following winter. He 
was married at Saint Roch (which had ceased to be a " theo- 
philanthropic " parish) by the good Abbe Seguret, who was 
shortly afterwards to perform the same ceremony for me. 

From Magnanville I went to Le Marais.^ Let me here 
pause awhile and give a full description of that fairy palace, its 
gardens, its guests, its occupants, and its charming daily life. 
In the midst of a pretty valley that descends from Dourdan to 
Arpajon winds a little river which forms in front of the chateau 

1 Cf. the memoirs of the period, particularly those of Barante and Norvins ; 
also the Correspondence of Mme. de Kemusat. The Chevalier d'Almeida 
"could not get over the astonishment which the magnificence of Le Maiais 
had caused him " (Comte Fleury's Dernieres annies des Bomhelles, p. 22). See 
also Pasquier's M6moires, vol. ii. p. 231, in which he expresses surprise that a 
ch&teau so calculated to have aroused the appetite of the people, owing to its 
elegance and luxury and the extent of its grounds, should have been i espected 
at the time of the Terror. — A, C. 



SOCIETY AT LE MARAIS 173 

courtyards an extensive oblong lake framed by tall Italian pop- 
lars. It is called the " Miroir,"" and it was to the far end that 
every guest at Le Marais was led at the outset of his or her 
visit. The newcomer's eyes were blindfolded, after which he or 
she was guided to a seat and told to " Behold ! " Woe to the 
dullard who did not utter a cry of astonishment ! This was 
the first test, and in my day Mme. de Vintimille had the exclu- 
sive privilege of applying it. From the " Mirror "" the river 
passed under a two-storied glass bridge that connected the 
chateau with the outbuildings. Thence it flowed through the 
gardens, passing by way of a huge canal, followed by a large 
basin, and escaped into the open country. At the time of 
which I am speaking the gardens were still a la Frangaise^ and 
on the southern hillside was a fine wooded park with large 
straight avenues. Shall I describe the chateau f The centre 
was occupied by an immense drawing-room that was really too 
royal in its magnificence. On each side was a smaller salon 
with two windows. Small gatherings were held in the first of 
these, that between the dining-room and Mme. de La Briche's 
apartment. Concerts took place in the second, adjoining the 
billiard-room. The large salon was used for crowded assemblies. 
Moreover, at all times you could be where you liked and do 
what you liked. There was perfect liberty, and you could 
have lived there like a hermit if you had preferred a cell to 
the best society in France. 

The Marais was still full of souvenirs of Florian, La Harpe, 
Marmontel, Ducis, the Abbe Delille, and of everybody who 
had made a stir for good or for evil during the last quarter of 
a century. But its gatherings had become more tranquil, its 
soirees were no longer published in the Almanach des muses^ 
and it had considerably gained by losing professional wits. 
The company was much more amiable, without being any the 
less wise. Who were our fellow guests ? 

First of all there were the two sisters De Vintimille and 
De Fezensac. One learnt Latin by beginning with Virgil, the 
other embroidered like a fairy. Then came the tall Viscount, 
with his sardonic good-nature and amusing indifference ; and 
afterwards the Comtesse Charles de Damas and her daughter 
Zephyrine, later the Comtesse de Vogiie, and later still the 



174 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Comtesse de Chastellux. Mme. de La Briche and Mme. 
de Damas, inseparable friends from their earliest years, had 
remained united by reason of their contrasting characters. 

After mentioning these two ladies, I should like to recollect 
some stupid and ugly vixen to vary and add shade to the 
picture, but the name of Mme. Pastoret springs to my memory. 
I hardly knew her, having only occasionally seen her at Mme. 
Suard's, Mme. de Stael's, and other grand assemblies, where she 
impressed me by her reputation and kept me aloof, truth to 
tell, by the recollection of the brilliant house that she had had 
at the beginning of the Revolution, and where there congre- 
gated the Condorcets, the Sieyes, and all the others whom I 
most hated and despised.^ 

In addition to M. d'Houdetot and M. de Saint-Lambert, 
who were then at Le Marais, I remember but one more house- 
hold — that of Adrien de Mun, a grandson of Helvetius, like 
his cousin Mme. de Rosambo. His mother was a very extra- 
ordinary, not to say crazy, woman. She it was who, when 
still a child, had been so well nourished on her father's philo- 
sophy that she sometimes told her governess that she intended 
to kill herself. The honest woman, after repeatedly lecturing 
her, at last became thoroughly alarmed and told the father. 
Calmly taking a pistol from his desk, Helvetius handed it to 
her, with the words : " Madame, the next time that my daughter 
talks of suicide, give her this.'' That cured her. 

Other men who visited at Le Marais during my sojourn were 
M. de Vaines, M. Pasquier, Alexandre de La Borde, and 
Chateaubriand. 

Before the Revolution M. de Vaines had been head assistant 
in the finance department, then an important post. Since, his 
energies had been directed into another channel. He had 
become the spoilt child of duchesses, whom he treated very 
cavalierly, the arbiter and counsellor to great families, such as 
that of Mme. de La Briche, and all of whom, with the excep- 
tion of Mathieu, swore by him. But one thing betrayed him : 
his detestable manners. He was a perfect story-teller, but 
could not say three words without inserting that " said he " 

1 Adelaide Anne Louise Piscatory (1765-1843). Cf, Pasquier's Mdmoires, 
vol. i. p. 204.— A. C. 



i 



ALEXANDRE DE LA BORDE 175 

which belongs to the language of the lowest classes. When 
Bonaparte formed a Council of State, M. de Vaines was, on his 
reputation, the first to be appointed. Six months afterwards 
Bonaparte said of him : " To me M. de Vaines is but a red- 
velvet chair." Nevertheless, this man, who was so silent at the 
meetings of the Council and so trivial in society, left some 
manuscripts that are masterpieces.^ 

M. Pasquier was the son of that severe Pasquier of the Par- 
liament, Voltaire's hite noire, who one day said to his colleagues : 
" Gentlemen, we are wasting our time in burning books ; we 
ought to begin by burning a few of the authors." According 
to custom, the son at twenty was a Conseiller des Enquetes. 
Tall, thin, and as straight as an arrow, with long arms and big 
feet, his flexibility from top to toe was such that he bent in 
and out as he walked. I afterwards nicknamed him the " per- 
pendicular serpent." 

Alexandre de La Borde was the very opposite of Pasquier : a 
good fellow, natural to the point of childishness, elegant in his 
manners, full of wit, and enthusiastically fond of the arts. He 
would have been less agreeable had he had a capable head. 
This was exactly what Providence had refused him, and he 
succeeded in squandering the remains of his father's huge 
fortune by means of his Voyage pittoresque et historique en 
Espagne. He was famous for his absent-mindedness. One day 
when sitting in front of the fire, listening to a lecture that his 
father was giving him on this subject, he saw his father's hat 
lying on the floor between his legs. Taking up the tongs, h^ 
picked up this three-cornered brand and carefully placed it on 
the fire. He ended by marrying a woman who would have 
been a model of beauty, as she was of grace and simplicity, had 
not her beautiful arms been disfigured by red hands that were 
like shoulders of mutton ; such hands as would have made 
M. de Livry ^ fall from his seat. 

1 Jean de Vaines (1733-1803), Director of Crown Lands at Limoges, then 
Keceiver-General of Finance and a Member of the Institute, was, says Norvins, 
a man of ready wit and much sought after for his conversation. Pasquier calls 
him one of the survivors of the Due de Choiseul's circle at Chanteloup. Cf. 
the paper read by Fr6d§ric Masson, on October 25, 1906, at the public annual 
meeting of the five Academies. — A. C. 

2 Amongst other peculiarities, this brother of Mme. de Polignac and of the 



176 BARON DE FRENILLY 

I place Chateaubriand last. Certainly my conscience is not 
burdened with being mixed up in the general conspiracy which, 
by force of eulogiums, was then formed against his good sense. 
Falseness has ever repelled me, and I infinitely prefer simple 
vices to double virtues. Now, I have never seen Chateaubriand 
except in beadle's dress. On the one hand, he was a good 
fellow, naive, cheerful, taking an interest in everything, laugh- 
ing and playing over trifles ; on the other, a great man, puffed 
out with self-importance and filled with insatiable pride. I do 
not believe that anybody could accuse him of being either 
devout, or pious, or a Christian, and I do not see in his 
Genie du Christianisme any reason for thinking so. But he had 
the intelligence or the good luck (it is said that, like Rousseau, 
he found a Diderot who made him change his plan from black 
to white) to seize the spirit of the times, which is the most 
important point in every work. He wrote for a frivolous public. 
Impiety was unfashionable ; so he presented Christianity in a 
series of pictures a la Van Sjpaendonk or a la Breughel, and had 
a tremendous but consistent success. He originated a style 
and a genre, full of talent, but false, proudly ambitious, like 
himself, and ruined the contemporary school of writers, who 
took everything from him except his genius. Apart from that, 
every time that his pride was not in question he was exceedingly 
amiable, engaging, amusing, and well-bred. He related to us 
that he had returned from America with a cargo of verses, and 
that on showing them to his uncle Malesherbes he had been 
advised to throw them into the fire. Everybody concluded 
that they had been burnt, but twenty years later he printed 
them. But I shall meet him more than once in the course of 
his changes, for I have seen him really constant only as regards 
two things : his vogue as a great man and his handwriting — 
that ecriture de grand homme which he seems to have invented 
in order to give trouble to Lavater. He came to Le Marais 
with his mistress, little Mme. de Beaumont, who was the wife, 

famous gambler who married Clotilda of the Opera, possessed that of judging 
people merely by their hands. It was the only merit he looked for in his 
friends and required in the case of his servants. One day when a new butler 
was bringing on a dish he showed that he had a very flat thumb. " Oh ! what 
a thumb !" cried M. de Livry, jumping up in his chair. Pie could not eat his 
dinner, and the poor butler was dismissed. — F. 



MME. DE BEAUMONT 177 

it is true, of the worst man in Paris.^ By her husband she 
was a niece of the proud Christophe de Beaumont, the last 
Archbishop but one. She had been a Mile, de Montmorin, 
the daughter of a minister, and was lively, witty, fairly original, 
and very philosophical. Though almost a consumptive, she used 
to walk on dewy evenings round the " Miroir," dressed merely 
in cambric muslin and with her bare head clipped a la Titus. 
On people saying to her : " You are playing at killing yourself," 
she used to reply : " What does it matter ? " She died in 
Rome, where Chateaubriand had taken her. I have seen the 
tomb which he raised to her memory in the church of Saint 
Louis des Fran^ais. Apart from the beautiful inscription 
" Quia non sunt,'"' which is more happy than true, it is a 
wretched little bas-relief, without feeling or dignity. Mention- 
ing this lady reminds me that I have not said a word about 
the great man's Breton spouse. They had quarrelled and 
separated. Nobody then knew her, and certainly she was hardly 
worth the trouble of knowing, for she had the same character 
and head as her husband. He had found his counterpart, and 
probably there was not a second in the world.^ 

Life at Le Marais was calm, familiar, brilliant and noisy. 
We talked and conversed ; we discussed ; we disputed in pairs, 
in fours, often in a chorus. We amicably seized each other by 
the hair, then laughed. There were a hundred contrasts, but 
not a feeling of antipathy. One day I spoke enthusiastically 
about Mme. de Sevigne. Mme. d'Houdetot accepted the 
challenge by saying : " I am acquainted with letters that are 
very superior to hers." " Unpublished ones," retorted I, 
bounding from my chair. " Voltaire's correspondence un- 
published ? " she replied. Whereupon I entered into a passion, 
for, frankly, I knew nothing less epistolary than his letters, 
and unfortunately I had read them all. We disputed the point 
closely, and M. de Damas pulled me by the coat-tails, whisper- 
ing : " For goodness' sake hold your tongue. Such things have 
never been said to Mme. d'Houdetot ! " But we were none 

1 Of. Leg Mimoires d'Outre-Tombe, Bird's edition, vol. ii. p. 255; and Aggnor 
Bardoux's La Comtesse Pauline de Beaumont, 1885. — A. C. 

2 Celeste Buisson de la Vigne, born at Lorient in 1774. Chateaubriand 
married her on March 19, 1792, at Saint Malo. Cf. M6m. d' Outre-Tomie, 
Bird's edition, vol. ii. pp. 4-9 and 549-562. — A. C. 



178 BARON DE FRENILLY 

the worse friends for that. The funny thing about it is that 
this lady who possessed so much wit wrote like a cook. A 
still stranger contrast was that Mme. de Damas, who was 
always theatrical in society, was natural, piquant, and playful 
in her correspondence. 

But let me return to my subject. We fed splendidly, apart 
from the vin (Tordinaire, which was detestable. After dinner, 
waggonettes were brought out and we went on excursions to 
Baville, Roinville, Soucy, Courson, Bandeville and other places, 
including the little Chateau de Saint-Maiirice, which stood on 
an eminence half a league from Le Marais, and whence a 
charming view was obtainable. That was its only merit. Its 
owner, the old Comtesse de Lubersac, who did her own cooking 
and allowed her husband twenty-four sous on Sundays to go and 
play bouillotte, was not the person to be on visiting terms with 
the chatelaine of Le Marais. 

After the season at Le Marais, which always finished on 
October 1, we went to Champlatreux ; from Champlatreux to 
Mme. d'Houdetot's at Sannois ; and from Sannois to Christian 
de Lamoignon''s at Mery. For the society in which I mixed 
was like a flock of pigeons which, more or less numerous, 
always came together again. 

To go from Champlatreux to Sannois was like passing from 
a palace to a cottage. For Sannois was nothing more nor 
less than a fairly good house on the Rouen road, from which 
it was separated by a little terraced garden. This little 
terrace developed into a broad alley of lime-trees bordering a 
partly English, partly French garden some arpents in extent. 
Good Mme. d'Houdetot, who had the inappreciable happiness 
of finding everything good and beautiful at her home, had, 
like Mme. de La Briche, her " Mirror." This was a little 
narrow opening which the painter Robert had conceived and 
himself cut in the little wood in the garden, and through 
which, from the salon, one could see the turning sails of the 
windmills of Sannois on the summit of the mountain opposite. 
Facing this drawing-room spread a lawn, terminated some 
thirty yards away, by a very fine bed of artichokes. I dared 
to propose to Mme. d'Houdetot that she should turn these into 
grass plot. " What ! "" she replied, " don't you think that 



SOCIETY AT SANNOIS 179 

this variety makes a good effect ? " In a little coppice called 
" the park " was a profusion of little inscriptions and monu- 
ments. Voltaire's bust in plaster was there, perched on a 
Parnassus of millstone. But I do not remember seeing that of 
Rousseau. In short, there was nothing really pretty except a 
small flower-garden, enclosed by four walls — a very small 
garden, but the flowers of which, growing on different levels 
around a fountain basin, hid the walls and formed a most 
charming sight. Seated there, it was as though you were in 
the centre of a bouquet. 

As to the company at Sannois, to the family and three or 
four men, such as Laborie, M. de Vaines and myself, must be 
added a very good neighbour, alone sufficient to ornament a 
chateau. This was the Vergennes family, which, ruined and 
in very straitened circumstances, then occupied a small 
country house at Franconville. Everybody knew Mme. de 
Vergennes, her very large nose, and her wit, which — more 
pointed than that organ — was full of roguishness but quite 
devoid of spite. She was the daughter-in-law of Vergennes, 
the celebrated minister, and his son's widow. With her 
appeared her two daughters, who certainly did not form the 
shadow in the picture. The elder had married M. de Remusat, 
a good young man of Marseilles who in lieu of a great name 
had the air of possessing a small fortune. The younger, Alix 
— very deformed and rather ugly — was still Mile, de Ver- 
gennes, a girl sparkling with wit and originality. She it was 
who became Mme. de Nansouty when the horn of abundance 
turned towards this family, and the two sisters became such 
great ladies through and for Bonaparte.^ 

Life at Sannois was an exact copy of that at Le Marais. 
The only difference was in the excursions. We visited every 
part of the beautiful valley of Montmorency, where chateaux 

1 Cf. Norvins' Memorial, published by Lanzac de Laborie (vol. i. pp. 292- 
295). Frenilly is in error in making Mme. de Vergennes the minister's 
daughter-in-law. Elisabeth Adelaide Frangoise de Bastard (1760-1808) was 
the wife of the nephew of M. de Vergennes, ex-Intendant of Auch, who was 
guillotined on the 6 th of Thermidor. Her two daughters are well known. The 
younger, Jeanne Frangoise Adelaide (1 781-1849), married General de Nansouty ; 
the elder, Claire Elisabeth Jeanne (1780-1821), a lady of Josephine's palace, was 
the author of Letters and Memoires. — A, C. 



180 BARON DE FRENILLY 

were so numerous that they almost touched each other. All 
were in ruins or deserted, but still standing. It was not until 
the return of the Bourbons that they began to fall — not until 
then that hope received the coup de grace! We visited 
Epinay, which later became so dear to Mme. d'Houdetot, the 
lake of Montmorency, Enghien, Margency, Saint-Leu, and 
Cernay, quite near to Sannois, the place of residence of that 
Mme. Boutin for whom, ten years before, I had had such a 
cordial aversion. She had quite changed in opinions and 
appearance, and Sannois being full it was at her house that I 
had to take up my quarters. As she was no longer a Jacobin 
and as I — in the words of Mme. d'Esquelbecq — had become a 
society favourite, she gave me a welcome that instantly effaced 
all disagreeable recollections. 

At the beginning of November, Mme. d'Houdetot permitted 
us to spend a few days with Christian de Lamoignon at Mery. 
I made this journey and little sojourn with Mme. de La 
Briche, her daughter and son-in-law. We were going from 
bad to worse, for Mery was the gloomiest of chateaux. You 
entered, as in the case of a Paris house, by a carriage-entrance, 
which opened on to a square courtyard flanked on three sides 
by the ancient manor-house and its wings, and closed on the 
fourth by the church. Only the cemetery was wanting. The 
interior was no better. But once you got outside there was a 
change. A fine park led to the banks of the Oise and joined 
on to its magnificent valley. 

As to Christian, I can find nothing but what is good to say 
of him. He was, without a doubt, the best of those eight 
children whom Lamoignon, the Keeper of the Seals, called his 
quadrille. His brother Auguste — in rather bad repute — lived 
outside the pale of society with a mistress. Mme. Mole, 
Mathieu''s mother, seized with religious fervour, had followed 
her spiritual director, the Abbe de Pancemont, to Vannes. 
Mme. de Caumont did just the opposite and Mme. de Brou 
lived on an estate. Christian was what is called a handsome 
man — a perfect man of society with a gentle, fair and pre- 
possessing face ; ever well groomed, informally polite, reason- 
ably cheerful, affable and good-mannered, without having 
much wit, which he loved to see, however, in others. He 



THE 18th of BRUMAIRE 181 

had retained from the unfortunate Quiberon expedition an 
injury to his leg which made walking painful, and which later 
became more serious.^ His wife, a Mile. Mole, was his niece, 
then quite young and still timid, though this has since 
worn off. 

It was during this little sojourn at Mery that the Revolu- 
tion of the 1 8th of Brumaire occurred. Bonaparte had fled 
from Egypt, as he fled from Russia and from Waterloo. A 
general does not flee — he retreats. But Bonaparte was ever 
the general of Fortune, and every time that she abandoned 
him he fled like a soldier, leaving the others to get out of the 
difficulty as best they could. This man, then, crept out of 
Egypt by night, glided between the English frigates and 
entered Paris. There he had but to stoop and take what he 
wanted. France — after passing, during eight years, from the 
anarchy of revolutionaries to the anarchy of political comedians 
— was eager for the despotism of a single man. Bonaparte 
came and took her, or rather received her, for on the 18th of 
Brumaire he lost his head, and had it not been for his brother 
Lucien, the day on which he mounted to a throne might have 
seen him mounting a scaffold. The Directory no longer 
existed. Joy was general and hopes were boundless. This 
man wished to reign ; therefore he would walk in monarchical 
paths ; he would give Peru to his accomplices, a yoke to the 
rabble, honour and peace to France, and to us forgetfulness 
and liberty. We could not desire more. But let me leave the 
history of France and the world and content myself with my 
own. For it is now time to speak of my marriage. 

1 In reference to these Lamoignons (who were seven, not eight), Mme. 
d'Aguisseau, Mme. de Brou, Mme. de Champlatreux, Mme. de Chaumont-la- 
Force, "so long the prettiest woman in Paris," and Christian, who was "endowed 
with the most perfect sociability and the most equable urbanity of manners " 
see Norvins' Memorial, vol. i. p. 137. — A. C. 



CHAPTER VII 
1800-1806 

Death of the Author's sister — His marriage — M. and Mine, de Mony — 
Kaiaeau and Cavaignac — Bourneville — Bad years — Chateaux and lords 
of the manor — The Thurys — Ferte-Milon — Villers-Cotterets — Crepy — 
The Wolves — Louis — The Peasants — Parisian Salons — M. de Somma- 
riva — Mme. de Eumford — Birth of Claire — Aignan — Work at Bourne- 
ville — Birth of Olivier — Journey in Poitou — Napoleon's Coronation — 
Keturn to Paris. 

At the beginning of the summer Rameau, my little notary, 
had said to me : " Sir, you must think of marrying. I have a 
match to propose to you — a widow." T made a grimace. 
" Young," he added. I smiled. " And who possesses a very 
fine estate near Paris." I listened. Fortunately the little man 
knew nothing about the condition of that fine estate and its 
burdens, otherwise he would never have made his proposal. 
Fortunately, he acted inconsiderately. Had he shown prudence 
it would have cost me my life's happiness. I must now explain 
from whom this overture came, and in doing so I shall be 
obliged to go back to the beginning of all things. My uncle, 
Saint- Waast, had been a very gallant man and was not short 
of bastards, whose fortune he had made. The eldest and the 
only one who was born before his marriage was a M. de Mony, 
who was treated almost as a son by his wife, and provided by 
him with a good position. He was a tall, stout man, florid 
and jovial, by no means lacking in wit and greatly recalling 
his father. He had met in Champagne two Miles, de Grandpre, 
the last descendants of the illustrious house of Joyeuse, who, 
having reached their majority and being not over rich, lived 
alone near the Chateau de Grandpre, an ancient family inherit- 
ance, and since the property of M. de Semonville. The 

182 



M. AND MME. DE MONY 183 

younger — a lively, rather romantic, and very philosophical girl 
— took a fancy to M. de Mony, married him, and came to live 
with him in Paris, where she kept a good house. But never 
would she approach that of M. de Saint- Waast, through a 
feeling of delicacy, in the case of a person of her birth, rather 
than pride. So M. de Mony frequented his father's house alone 
and in the role of a bachelor. He frequently met my father 
and mother there, and was received by them with all the 
friendship and cordiality of a relative. This delicate attention 
had made a deep impression upon him, and he had remained 
devotedly, almost gratefully, attached to my mother. 

With the Revolution came the law that enabled natural sons 
to succeed to their fathers'" property, a law which, as it was 
retroactive in its eiFect, despoiled legitimate heirs of inheritances 
to which they had already succeeded. Under these circum- 
stances M. de Mony had but to step forward to spoliate my 
mother of M. de Saint- Waast's entire fortune. But he did not 
do so. He was an aristocrat, an honest man, not very anxious 
to declare himself a bastard, and in addition his wife had 
Joyeuse blood in her veins. But his brothers seemed disposed 
to seize the fortune which he refused. In the case of his refusal 
the law allowed them to accept, so they pressed him either to 
act or to renounce. We were regarding ourselves as ruined 
when M. de Mony wrote to my mother from Grandpre to say 
that the only means he had of saving her was to declare his 
birth and come into his rights, which he would then hand over 
to her. God forbid that I should go any further into this 
business, which cost us a year's time, great expense and infinite 
trouble, but which at last ended to the satisfaction of M. de 
Mony and the great disappointment of his brothers. And that 
is what a noble heart, an amiable welcome, and a gracious smile 
brought my mother. A haughty, unpleasant woman would 
have lost three millions. 

Now, M. de Mony was in society relations with a M. de 
Fortier, who wished to marry a niece, a young widow, owner 
of a fine estate near Paris ; likewise a great friend of a M. 
Boyer, owner of a small estate neighbouring the other. He 
made inquiries, formed his plan, and, as he was, with all his 
merits, the most fastidious and one of the most curious 



184 BARON DE FRENILLY 

men I have ever known, placed this overture in the hands of 
my notary, instead of communicating with me direct. 

This marriage proposal — vaguely entered upon at the com- 
mencement of the summer — dragged on for two or three 
months for three reasons : first, my bachelor life was very 
agreeable and I was no longer in a hurry to marry ; secondly, 
I wished for my sister''s return in order to consult her ; and 
thirdly, they wished to show me this fine estate, as in the case 
of Armide's gardens, in order that they might enchant me 
should Armide herself fail to do so. Now this visit, so as not 
to have the air of that of a bargaining purchaser, had to be 
arranged as though it were a neighbourly one. M. Boyer''s 
estate at Vernelle was a suitable place from which to pay it, 
but the Monys were not to be there until the autumn. My 
life, therefore, went on just the same, except that I cultivated 
their acquaintance a little more closely and learnt to know that 
Mme. de Mony who had ever been invisible to my family. 
Noble pride was the base of her character. She had a loving 
heart, a generous soul, a gay, open disposition, a piquant and 
original mind, but not enough prejudices for a woman. Her 
tone was not exactly up to the standard of the society in which 
I moved, but she was nevertheless a grande dame. 

It was not, therefore, until the end of September that, in 
company with M. and Mme. de Mony, I was at M. and Mme. 
Boyer's little castle of Vernelle. The latter, whom I did not 
know from Adam and Eve, were from fifty to sixty years of 
age, well-to-do, hospitable, possessors of a well-kept house, 
common and yet the most obliging people in the world. After 
two days spent over billiards and whist, M. Boyer ordered his 
cabriolet and we set off to take a general look at my future 
possessions. But we found the place closed. " Good," said I 
to myself ; " they are evidently well guarded."" After ringing, 
knocking, and calling for a quarter of an hour, one of Armide"'s 
maidens came in her sabots to introduce us into an immense 
farmyard planted with trees and provided with stables, cow- 
sheds, sheep-pens, poultry-houses, &c. But not a sound could 
we hear of horses, cows, sheep, or poultry. All was solitude 
and silence, with here and there heaps of manure, stones, tiles, 
and scattered beams and laths, I have not yet forgotten this 



BOURNEVILLE 185 

first inauspicious impression. The wind, which never ceases to 
blow in this fine district, was very cold. *' Let us walk round 
the park to warm ourselves," said my companion. On one side 
of the chateau and as far as the main road was a large tract of 
uncultivated land, without either grass or trees, partly tilled 
and well covered with stones ; on the other an esplanade of 
yellow sand, dug out in various parts ; alleys, some overgrown 
with grass and others encumbered with stones ; and here and 
there superb clumps of trees, arranged without order or plan. 
Half of the park was without walls, whilst doors, ice-houses, 
and walls were either in ruins or only partly built. At every 
step one could see traces of an anglomaniac, a lunatic who had 
dreamed of making a Blenheim but had only succeeded in 
producing a quarry, who had died at his task, leaving, after 
six weeks of marriage, a widow whose fortune he had not had 
the time to squander. His name was Praudeau de Chemilly, 
and he had formerly been a Treasurer- General of Marechaussees. 
It was to this crack-brained fellow of fifty, who was hopelessly 
ruined, as a glance at the first mortgage register would have 
shown, that my future father-in-law ^ had given his daughter 
of twenty-six, and with her the prospect of a very fine fortune, 
in return for very fine properties on which innumerable creditors 
had claims. 

We finished our walk at the chateau, which on one side 
looked on to the sand-pit, on the other on to treeless meadows 
and marshes traversed by the Ourcq Canal, and beyond which was 
a succession of plains and woods. Only the chateau had a 
promising air and held forth consolations. But when, after 
ringing and re-ringing at the kitchen gate, that good fellow 
Mounier (since my concierge) arrived, he informed us that we 
could not enter, not even to warm ourselves in the kitchen.^ 

Such was the result of my first expedition to Bourneville. 

1 Pierre Een6 Mullon de Saint-Preux, Lord of Saint-Martin, who was born 
at Grande-Terre, Guadeloupe, November 29, 1751, and who married Alexandrine 
Marthe Fortier. had been a gendarme in the King's ordinary guard (1763-1775), 
a muster-master-general at the close of 1780, and an employ i at Angers in 
1786. He was placed on half-pay in 1788, and died in Paris on October 11, 
1822.— A. C. 

2 Bourneville, which will be mentioned so often in these Memoirs, is a league 
from La Fert§-Milon, and forms part of the commune of Marolles (Oise, arron- 
djssement of Senlis, canton of Betz). — A. C, 



186 BARON DE FRENILLY 

We returned to Vernelle dejected and with chilled imagina- 
tions. However, I was not discouraged, I knew that the 
estate was a fine one, and its bareness and ruins troubled me 
little. All my life I have had a passion for arranging and 
creating. 

I returned to Paris with the good Monys, who had gone to 
Vernelle solely on my account. My notary was then placed 
in charged of the business part of the affair and Mme. de Mony 
of the sentimental. Women make rapid progress in these 
matters. A few days later Mme. de Mony arranged with the 
young widow to go to the theatre, and by handing me a box 
ticket enabled me at last to see my Armide. She did not 
impress me. Not that she made the same impression as her 
gardens had done ; she simply did not please me. She was ugly, 
with chinese-like eyes, tall and well-made, but so thin that, after 
my good aunt De Chazet had seen her, she said to me, with tears 
in her eyes : " Child, that poor bony little thing won't live a 
year." ^ I took walks with her, conversed with her, found that 
there was something stiff about her, that she was embarrassed 
and hid her best characteristic — naturalness. I ought to have 
remembered that this had exactly been my own position and 
perhaps was still. Others in my place would not have carried 
the matter further. But, as I wrote to my sister : " What 
attracts me towards her is the very fact that she does not 
please me." Poor sister ! What a pity she did not live to 
witness my happiness, to see those desolate gardens become 
charming and mentioned as so, those marshes covered by a 
forest of fine trees, that debt-burdened estate reach the value 
of fifteen hundred thousand francs, without a penny being 
owing to anybody, what a pity she did not live to see that 
poor bony little thing with chinese-like eyes become plump and 
blooming, that stiff-mannered person, simple, full of taste, 
natural and witty, that timid woman become in tone, dress, 
and manners the equal of her best models, beloved and sought 
after by the most distinguished people of Paris, and, finally, 
that apparently dry and severe woman become the sweetest, 
tenderest, most devoted of wives and mothers. 

Thus, then, was I introduced to her. I went to see her 
1 Mine, de Frenilly lived until the age of ninety t — A. C, 



PROSPECTIVE MARRIAGES 187 

often, finally every day, for every day I saw the ice melting and 
my first impressions disappear. 

Such were my occupations when, about the end of October, 
my sister arrived. Alas ! in what a state she was ! Her letters 
were those of a sick person, but her face was that of one dying. 
Her strong constitution had held out three years. All was over, 
she had but a very short time to live : and yet she still went 
about, superintended the affairs of her household, received 
company, and, to please her husband and myself, accepted 
illusions that I believe she did not share. 

Next to my own marriage, which, as she attached great 
importance to it, she hastened on more than myself, the matter 
that occupied her thoughts the most was another union which 
she had negotiated between her cousin De Fauveau and Mile. 
Hippolyte de Lapierre, a tall, beautiful girl against whom 
there was nothing to be said except that her nose resembled a 
little too much that of the handsome M. Le Couteulx de 
Canteleu. The wedding was celebrated at the beginning of 
December at a pretty country house which Mme. de Lapierre 
owned near Rouen, where her husband was Director-General of 
Customs. I was present and spent three days there in com- 
pany with the cream of the customs' officials of Normandy. 

On returning from Rouen, I paid my official visit to Bourne- 
ville — not like a thief, as on the first occasion, but as a guest 
and awaited by my young widow. She was alone with her 
father, and out of respect for propriety good M. Boyer was 
urged to accompany me. As it was freezing hard, I entered on 
my romance with numb fingers. But this time Mounier opened 
the door, there was a good fire, and I at last saw the chateau, 
which, indeed, although entirely bare, was charming. They 
had been able to sell neither its fine proportions, nor its 
frescoes, nor its exquisite sculpture, nor its marbles, nor its 
profusion of mirrors and mahogany. We spent three days 
there. My companion wished to leave me, and I would will- 
ingly have stayed on had not my hostess, with very good taste, 
driven me away. 

However, things were so far advanced between us that 
we promised to write to each other and give a full and truthful 
description of ourselves. She was to remain in the country for 



188 BARON DE FRENILLY 

some time and the state of my sister's health would not permit 
matters to be hastened. My poor sister, through hearing me 
speak of my young widow every evening, had gradually grown 
very fond of her. It was a great grief to her not to see her ; 
she sought to look into the future and see me happy with her 
for her physical weakness had made her less cold towards me. 
" I have not known you sufficiently well," she once said to me ; 
" I have not loved you enough." She was exceedingly anxious 
to make a wedding-present to my wife, and this present, alas ! 
ended in becoming a legacy. This gift was a very fine neck- 
lace, of which she was very fond, and which she always wore. 
" Do you think," she said to me, " that she would accept it ? " 
Her husband was present. " Mon ami," she said to him, 
" what do you think ? " He did not reply, but his silence 
said : " This necklace will be my property in a fortnight's 
time." 

I lost my sister about three weeks after my return from 
Bourneville — January 16, 1800. Consciousness and even her 
voice remained with her until the last gasp. She died full of 
life, except as regards her lungs, which had been destroyed by 
the corrosiveness (sic) of her milk and no longer enabled her to 
breathe. I passed the last night by her bedside. Her hus- 
band was asleep. She pointed this out to me with a sad 
smile. She was eager to speak, to converse with me, to con- 
tinue to live with me. For the first time she asked me to 
kiss her. I begged her to rest and not to fatigue herself. 
Unworthy and barbarous stupidity ! I was refusing to grant 
her last consolation. " Is it on account of to-morrow that you 
wish me to rest ? " she replied. " Well, let us talk to-night 
and to-morrow I will rest." And rest, indeed, she did — for 



ever 



When my first grief was over, I returned to my marriage 
project. Whilst I had been lightly skimming along the sur- 
face, little Rameau had been hard at work. " Monsieur," said 
he, " proceed cautiously. Conclude nothing before this inheri- 
tance is definitely settled, otherwise you will wed yourself to 
lawsuits." He was right ; worldly wisdom enjoined me to 
wai t. But had I been wise, I should have had to wait for ten , 
nay, fifteen years ; and what would then have become of my life. 



POVERTY IN SOCIETY 189 

Wisdom from on high decided that I should act unwisely. I 
had become attached to my young widow and she to me. I 
felt that it would be unworthy to withdraw. So Rameau was 
praised, approved and dismissed, whilst Alexandrine was asked 
in marriage. Those were fine days for poverty, for everybody 
was poor and nobody troubled their heads about it. Mme. de 
Vintimille, Mme. de Fezensac and other beautiful ladies of that 
brilliant society which I have described, arrived quite well by 
the Arpajon diligence at the palace they had formerly entered 
with a coach and six horses. Luxurious living did not really 
make its reappearance until Paris had a Court. It is true we 
did not go there. But gradually we begun to half open our 
doors to women who did — then to open them wide, and in this 
way people came to have a desire to be as well dressed and as 
well provided with carriages as they were. In 1800, however, 
no such troublesome comparisons were made, or at any rate 
they did not as yet ruin any one. A bride was not condemned 
to show in public her stockings and chemises, so mine kept her 
trousseau to herself. A future bridegroom was not bound to 
spend a whole year's income on chiffons and precious stones. I 
submitted, therefore, and with fairly good grace, when she 
insisted on my restricting myself to resetting her very modest 
diamonds. The etiquette formerly observed during the time 
of the engagement and the marriage contract rout no longer 
existed, and people were condemned to be happy without either 
a noise or a crowd. Half my days were spent at her house in 
the Rue de la Ville I'Eveque, conversing, reading, making plans, 
or taking walks together. She had not kept up relations with 
her first husband's family. Only once did I see at her house 
Mme. d'Avignon, M. de Chemilly's sister, and his niece, Mile, 
de la Blache, who afterwards became Mme. d'Haussonville. 

Alexandrine was not defenceless. There was a man, a 
stranger who saved her, and I should be very ungrateful if I were 
not to mention him. He was an attorney named Cavaignac, a 
man of resource and intelligence. After he had protected her 
from preliminary attacks by obtaining for her the administra- 
tion of the inheritance, he said : " Madame, they have robbed 
you of Bourneville. You must buy it back."" The poor 
woman started back in astonishment, exclaiming, " But, sir, I 



190 BARON DE FRENILLY 

have no money ! ■" " You are not asked for any,"" replied 
Cavaignac. " First of all, estates are still sold for a mere 
nothing "" — and, indeed, she got it for two hundred thousand 
francs — " secondly, the price will be due to a hundred 
creditors ; a part will be due in rents, and the remainder won't 
come until they have finished devouring each other." So she 
resigned herself to this plan, and when I married her not a 
penny of the money had yet been paid. That was why good 
little Rameau had heaved so many sighs, which fortunately 
had made no impression upon me. But to return to Cavaignac ; 
he made me pay dearly for his immense services, for he was the 
most indefatigable and tedious babbler I have ever known, 
passing from digression to digression, and leaving the subject 
of your business to talk about politics, sport, or painting. I 
did not dare say to him, " Advocate, return to your subject " ; 
for he was devoted, brusque, hot-headed, and, whilst improving 
his client's affairs, conducted them in a masterly manner. One 
evening we had a consultation at the house of the celebrated 
Poirier. It was entirely taken up by a discussion on how to 
grow melons, and this cost me four louis ! 

We signed our marriage contract on June 6, 1800. My 
witnesses were M. de Mony and Norvins, who had promised to 
make the future bride laugh during the whole time it was being 
read, and who kept his word. As to those of my wife, I can 
remember only her uncle M. de Fortier, whose pale face and 
dull mind and character do not prompt me to say a word. At 
the head of the family was a grandmother of eighty-five, a very 
extraordinary woman who lived in retirement in a country house 
at Neuilly — a wealthy, ill-natured, capricious and witty old 
creature, whose avarice was as strange as herself.^ On the 
occasion of my marriage, and at the birth of my first child, 
whose godmother she was, we did not receive a ifranc piece ; 
but when my son was born she wrote to say that she had two 
houses at Meaux and that I was to choose one of them. I 
went to see them ; after which I begged her to make the choice 
herself. Her reply was : " Take them both." 

A few days after the signing of the contract we left for 

1 Perette Leroy, first cousin of Julien David Leroy, member of the Academy 
of Belles-lettres in 1773.— A. C, 



MY MARRIAGE 191 

Bourneville, where I believe that the guests, in addition to my 
wife's father and her pale-faced uncle, were the Monys, the 
good Abbe Seguret, who was to marry us, Brejole, Norvins 
and his elder brother. The spring, our happiness and hope, 
had changed the desert into a place of gladness. It had 
become a bouquet of flowers, and its forest of acacias perfumed 
the country for half a league around. Faithful Belin, who had 
brought my horses from Paris, said to me : " Monsieur, I began 
to smell how good this place is a league from here." He was 
beside himself with joy at being able to witness the end of my 
romance, and asked to be allowed to embrace me, a request I 
accorded with all my heart. He was as attached to me as 
my dog Crispin. Not long before, one summer evening, the 
servants had taken advantage of the fine weather to lay their 
supper in an alley of the garden on the banks of the river ; 
and whilst walking about my sister and I happened to approach 
them under favour of the night. They were talking of their 
masters, and I had the pleasure of hearing Belin say : " As to 
Monsieur, I admit he's not always easy to get on with. YouVe 
got to be clean, punctual, and not answer back. But, on 
the other hand, he's as good as bread, and both just and gene- 
rous." My sister pressed my arm, and whispered, " Happy 
man ! " Belin died in my service, and I have pensioned his 
widow. 

We were married on May 30, 1800, in the little drawing- 
room at Bourneville transformed into a chapel. Nineteen 
years afterwards, my daughter's wedding recalled this modest 
private marriage. Apart from the rooms that had been 
hastily got ready for our few guests who were very badly put 
up, the chateau was not yet inhabitable. The place was full 
of workmen. There was a tremendous amount of work to be 
done and very little money with which to do it. But I had 
chosen ; I was young and happy, full of love and loved. I 
had entered into a compact with the future. 

Here, since so many novels end with marriage, my romance 
ought to be brought to a conclusion. What shall I say if I 
continue it ? But what shall I do if I remain silent ? What 
pastime shall I find in a Trieste inn on this 5 th of January, 
1838 ? Is it not better to twaddle than to vegetate ; I shall 



192 BARON DE FRfiNILLY 

see. The night gives time for consideration and from snnui 
sometimes springs courage. 

*|C #ft 3jp ^ «)• 

Once more I have taken up my pen. Our Bourneville 
household was exceedingly simple, but such as it was it would 
have exceeded our means had we not promptly come to the 
resolution to leave Paris after my wife's confinement, which was 
due in the following winter, and stay in the country until we 
were able to live in the capital in a fitting and agreeable 
manner. Our means were very small. After deducting our 
heavy expenses and the interest on the price of Bourneville, 
there remained a net income of ten to twelve thousand francs. 
Moreover, there was then at Bourneville but one thing of very 
great value — its flock of merino sheep, the first that had been 
brought from Spain at the time of M. Trudaine's stewardship, 
long before that of Rambouillet. On its arrival in France, this 
flock numbered three hundred animals, which were divided 
into three equal lots. The first was given to Comte de 
Barban9ois, in Berry ; the second to M. Daubenton, at Mont- 
bard ; and the third to M. de Chemilly. Considerably 
increased, very celebrated and very productive, the Bourneville 
flock was sold by auction, like the rest of things, and my 
father-in-law was able to save but half, which went at very 
much under value. 

What was to be done with so small a revenue ? I did 
everything I could to economise, and my wife spent but six 
hundred francs on her toilette, yet was well dressed. But it 
was impossible for me, during those early years, to make any 
improvements at Bourneville, though my fingers were itching 
to undertake them. This was my greatest annoyance. Then 
there was the retinue of servants ! Gardeners and keepers 
were indispensable if the estate were to be saved from ruin. 
Besides, there was not one of them who was not a creditor, 
and we could not have dismissed them unpaid without being 
cruel. Our staff, therefore, consisted of seven servants. First 
of all, there was my father-in-law's old servant and his wife 
who did the cooking — both of them Bretons, the excellent 
Belguises, who could look back to the time of my wife's birth. 
There were also three other women : the daughter of the 



CREDITORS 193 

Belguises, a femme de chambre, and a kitchen-maid. Then 
two men : Belin, my coachman, and Mounier, who was con- 
cierge, floor-polisher, lackey, and if need be coachman. This 
was a good deal for so small a fortune to support. But we 
deprived ourselves without much trouble. I had a genius for 
order and my wife was without a desire. We economised, 
therefore, by doing without useless things and even those that 
some call necessaries, and I should have been quite happy in 
my solitude, I should have had but delicious recollections of 
those years had it not been for the terrible mountain of business 
which again fell on my shoulders. 

Although my wife had been M. de Chemilly's first victim, it 
was on this name which she had borne that all the maledic- 
tions of the district fell. She had been reduced to re- 
pm-chasing this estate — her own property, yet was reproached 
with possessing it, possessing this place the excessive expenses 
of which had produced so many debts and made so many 
unhappy people. The lower classes do not reason over these 
things. They are like the man who broke the windows on the 
first floor of a house because he could not reach the second 
storey, where his enemy lived. The heavy slowness of 
Cavaignac, who played but the role of a cunctator perfectly, 
increased the difficulties — nourished a tribe of little attorneys 
appointed by the creditors, multiplied their complaints, and 
protracted the administration of an affair that I should have 
liked to have terminated at all cost. Finally, the very owner- 
ship of Bourneville was then in dispute. What had poor 
Rameau said ? The sale effected by the heirs had to be 
according to judicial formalities, and every creditor had the 
right to bid higher. One of them had dared to do so, although 
the sale had produced everything it could at that time. This 
creditor was Baron de Wrentz, at bottom the best man in the 
world and very witty, but whimsical, very quick-tempered, and 
annoyed that forty thousand francs of his money should be 
involved in the disaster. I recollect that in the autumn of 
that year he came from Strasburg to Bourneville to talk over 
the affair with us. I had the stupidity to mistrust my ability 
to discuss so thorny an affair with an unknown man, and sent 
for Cavaignac. He came, and in three days floundered about 

N 



194 BARON DE FRENILLY 

so much and perorated at such length that the Baron, fatigued 
and deafened, left without any arrangement being come to. 
As both he and I were frank and quick-tempered, we should 
have concluded everything had it not been for my unfortunate 
act of prudence. 

The Monys left Bourneville shortly after our marriage, and 
did not return until the autumn, so that the only person left 
was Brejole, who had been relieved by the Revolution of his 
clerical domino. He spent part of the day playing with his 
thick fingers on a piano which I had imprudently brought from 
Paris, hobbling along the corridors, escaping from the seductions 
of the maidens of the district, who were all smitten by his 
charms, and scribbling on reams of paper. I came across a 
copybook which he had made in order to write out the draft of 
a letter to one of his female cousins. It contained twenty-six 
beginnings, no ending, and the letter had not been sent off. 
Finally, he went back to Paris, and I did not give him the 
opportunity of returning to Bourneville. At the time of writing, 
it is three months since he died, aged seventy-nine. During 
the seven years that I have been absent from France the only 
sign of recollection that he showed were the receipts for a 
pension I allowed him. 

Our days passed calmly and uniformly. Early in the morn- 
ing I was in my study, granting audiences, looking into our 
affairs, and writing letters. When my wife was ready we went 
to look at the park, to trace alleys, to plant trees, and to build ; 
or else we occupied ourselves over the furnishing and arranging 
of our interior. During the remainder of the morning Alexan- 
drine learnt drawing, Latin, and literature with me. For my 
part, I read a large number of agricultural works or wrote 
verses. We concluded our evenings with a game at piquet 
and a concert, for Alexandrine, without being a virtuoso, sang 
well and played agreeably on the harp. Her father was a very 
good violinist. We had very few neighbours with whom to 
amuse ourselves. Indeed, they could hardly as yet be called 
neighbours, and for this I thanked heaven, for I do not care 
for chance friends — those unexpected friends whose departure 
Mme. de Sevigne used to witness with so much joy. 

The district, however, was thickly covered with chateaux. 



NEIGHBOURING CHATEAUX 195 

But some had been destroyed by the Revolution. The huge 
Chateau de Gesvres was but an abandoned quarry ; the Chateau 
de Betz was beginning to fall into ruins, whilst its beautiful 
gardens, which still existed, were not long before they also 
disappeared ; and Villers-Cotterets, the scene of so many fetes, 
was about to become a poor-house. The La Myre family was 
living in retirement at its little Chateau du Gue-a-Tresmes, as 
we were doing at Bourneville. The same may be said of Mau- 
creux. Boursonne, belonging to the Comtes de Boursonne ; 
Ivors, the property of the Nicolais ; and Antilly, the chateau of 
the Brochant family, were abandoned. The only place in the 
neighbourhood that was inhabited was the small maison de chasse 
of Corey, buried in the Forest of Villers-Cotterets, three leagues 
from Bourneville, and in which my old friend Montbreton and 
his excellent but strange wife lived from time to time. A little 
further away was Villers-Helon, a small chateau belonging to 
an emigre and occupied by a M. Collard, a tall, handsome and 
robust contractor, who had turned gentleman by marrying one 
of Mme. de Genlis' illegitimate children. Near Villers-Helon 
was a pretty chateau, inhabited by Henry de Montesquiou and 
his charming cousin Mme. de Mornay ; and among other houses 
in the forest was the Chateau de Montgobert, which has since 
been occupied by General Leclerc and the beautiful Pauline 
Bonaparte. But the nearest of all the neighbouring chateaux, 
though the one we visited the least because of the horrible 
cross-roads that had to be taken, was the Chateau de Thury, a 
sorry little place with a small and wretched garden, surrounded 
by a large and repellent plain. Its occupant, however, was 
one of the most amiable old men I have known, M. de Thury, 
whose wife was a sister of M. Ferrand, the author of VEsprit 
de Vhistoire?- 

Half a league from Bourneville stood our capital, the horrible 
little town of Ferte-Milon, whose only glories were the un- 
finished chateau of Philippe de Valois and the house, or rather 
the houses of Racine. The latter, however, did not arouse 
such a dispute as that between the seven cities of Greece over 

1 Comte Ferrand (1751-1825), Councillor to the Parliament, emigre, Post- 
master-General under the Eestoration, peer of France, and member of the 
French Academy, left M6moires that were published in 1897. — A. C. 



196 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Homer's birthplace. For the knowledge of Ferte-Milon did 
not advance beyond the arts of reading, writing, and counting ; 
and when Louis XVIII. presented its honest corn and wool 
dealers with a statue of Racine in marble,^ they might well 
have said that the smallest ducatoon would have suited them 
better. Most of them, indeed, then heard for the first time 
that a person named Racine, who wrote very pretty verses, had 
formerly been born in their town ; but this glory did not 
console them for either present embarrassments or the expenses 
of the inauguration. Therefore, the only person worth knowing 
in Ferte-Milon was an ex-magistrate, M. Tribert, an excellent, 
well-educated man, who, possessed of only a modest fortune, 
was bringing up a large family. I have since had the pleasure 
of having him appointed President of the Tribunal of Chateau- 
Thierry. 

A league further away was another small town, Villers- 
Cotterets, in the centre of the magnificent forest, undoubtedly 
the finest in France, and provided with a thousand admirable 
roads that made excursions delightful. Nowhere else have I 
seen such superb ancestral beeches, separated the one from the 
other by forty to sixty feet, and under whose shade a coach 
and six could have been driven with ease. 

A third small town, Crepy, two leagues still fin-ther away, 
sometimes attracted me because of one of the old members of 
M. de Saint-Waast's circle, M. Delahante and his excellent wife 
Adele de Parseval. They were still wealthy, had three children, 
and did much good in this little town, of which M. Delahante 
was mayor. '^ 

Wolves swarmed in the forest. Under favour of the Revo- 
lution, they had prospered in the country places, like the tigers 
in the towns. The aristocratic deer, which is eaten, had been 
destroyed ; but wolves — revolutionary game which eat others — 
had been allowed to multiply in peace. In the abandoned 
forest they had found a peaceful retreat, where neither hunting- 

1 This statue, which, stands in front of the Mairie, is by David d'Angers. — 
A. C. 

2 Cf.^ Adrien Delahante's Unefamille de finance au dix-huitieme iiVcZe, vol. ii. 
pp. 491-.5.57. After being Mayor of Cr6py and President of the General Council 
of the Oise during the whole of the Empire, Etienne Marie Delahante, who died 
in 1829, refused, from 1815, to hold any public office.— A. C, 



WOLVES 197 

horn nor dog ever disturbed them. At night time they pro- 
menaded about at their ease in my interior park, which had 
then many gates but very few walls. We could hear them 
under our windows, and in the morning see the impression of 
their big paws on the sand. Shepherds dare not fold their 
sheep without having good dogs, one or two loaded guns, and 
torches that burned all night and the smell of which kept off 
the wolves. It required several years, the revival of order, 
incessant hunts, and the reign of Bonaparte to reduce these 
packs of wolves to the small number preserved by the wolf- 
hunters for purposes of sport. 

It was at one of these first wolf-hunts that I made the 
acquaintance of a new keeper, who well merits that his name 
should here be mentioned. He lived twenty-seven years with 
me, died in my employment, and his modest monument stands 
in our parish cemetery at MaroUes to testify to his virtues and 
our regret. Louis L'Echauguette was then quite young. He 
had the manners and voice of a rustic, but was the personifica- 
tion of honour and uprightness. Faithful, ready and able to 
do anything, a good shot, and an indefatigable walker, he 
became, after being a keeper for twenty years, my steward, and 
in this capacity managed my estate and kept his accounts 
admirably. 

As to the peasants, and even our workmen and tradespeople 
of the neighbouring town, they were generally decent folk, and 
although so near Paris had not been spoilt by the Revolution. 
This was the case all over France. These people of the lowest 
order had been oppressed by a new class that had formerly been 
on about their own level. Every village had had its Jacobin 
tyrant, its Terror in little, and each had shaken off the yoke 
after learning, to its cost, that equality with its lord was 
being preached in order to make it the slave of its mason or 
schoolmaster. These people, therefore, had come out of the 
Revolution cured, better than they were beforehand. 

In the course of the month of February 1801 we returned 
to Paris. Our establishment was a very modest one. We 
slept in a small bachelor's bedroom ; a femme de chambre and 
good Mme. Belguise in a large room at the back ; a lackey and 
Belin in a little room on the third floor ; and the coachman I 



198 BARON DE FRENILLY 

know not where. For it was necessary that my wife should 
have carriage exercise. She had a coupe that had been made in 
London, a charming vehicle, apart from the fact that it was 
out-of-date and wanted repainting. But I preferred to pay the 
accoiwheur rather than the coach-builder. With the exception 
of the Monys, the Montbretons, and a few other close friends, 
I avoided giving her the trouble of seeing all my acquaintances. 
We saw hardly anybody save Mme. de Vinde, whose husband 
was still exceedingly fond of me, good Mme. d'Esquelbecq, 
Mme. de La Briche and her nieces De Vintimille and De 
Fezensac, Mme. d'Houdetot, and a few men. 

Mme. de La Briche's Sundays had not yet become those 
brilliant gatherings which everybody wished to attend. She 
received only relatives and friends. At supper the ladies sat 
down to table, which was no longer possible when all Paris 
attended. In fact, her gatherings and the habits of the guests 
were the same as they were before the Revolution. 

Mme. d'Houdetot also gave her ordinary soirees, but less 
frequently. Her Wednesdays revived the famous gatherings 
of Mme. du Deifand and Mme. GeofFrin. But she did not 
invite women. They were little academic dinner-parties, made 
up of men who were more or less great, but exceedingly 
human, and who, thanks to their hostess's simplicity and 
naturalness, gave themselves neither pretentious nor important 
airs. Their simplicity was all the more striking because, on 
the whole, they were men of mediocre talent, who are generally 
far from being simple in tone and manners. The thermometer 
of genius had fallen from Bossuet and Racine to Montesquieu 
and La Harpe, and from these to zero or almost zero. No matter, 
they dined like eagles, some even like vultures, and the colossal 
Abbe Morellet, seated at the middle of the table, opposite Mme. 
d'Houdetot, undertook to carve the most important joints, at 
the same time taking care, with marvellous dexterity, to let the 
best morsels negligently fall into a corner of the dish, where he 
found them when everybody had been served. The other 
guests were M. de Pastoret, M. Suard, M. de Saint-Lambert, 
the Chevalier de Boufflers, Alexandre de Humboldt — the most 
brilliant man of the company, quite German in his frankness, 
who never spoke when allowed to remain silent, but who talked 



SOMMARIVA 199 

incessantly when encouraged to speak — Laborie, ever cheerful, 
animated, and sometimes more piquant than the others, M. 
Male and Alexandre de La Borde. Such were the habitues, 
and when any distinguished foreigner was passing through 
Paris we rarely missed having him among us. It was on that 
ground that, a long time afterwards, we saw the Marquis de 
Sommariva spring up there. I may say " spring up " because 
he did really seem to arise out of the earth. He was a little 
advocate of Milan, whom the Italian Revolution had provided 
with an immense fortune ; a title, and everything that follows ; 
and who, as a man of wit, was looking for a country where he 
would find neither relatives nor companions, nor recollections.^ 
Having a country house at Epinay, quite near to Sannois, he 
made the acquaintance of Mme. d'Houdetot, to whom he began 
to pay gallant and assiduous attentions. The poor widow — 
for she had then lost her two husbands — still retained her 
desire for love and came to have such a tenderness for him 
that he became the sole object of her thoughts. She thought 
that she loved him as a mother does a son, but it was really as 
a lover, and her grey hairs allowed her to display her affection 
without creating a scandal. People laughed, but not in her 
presence, for love was the only thing that she had ever taken 
seriously. Moreover, this wealthy marquis was a very good 
fellow, inflated neither by his wealth nor his good fortune ; 
an exceedingly handsome, prepossessing man, who sought to get 
into the best Parisian society and succeeded in doing so without 
difficulty through Mme. d'Houdetofs welcome, his great wealth, 
and his excellent dinners. In addition, he possessed a quality 
that was no longer found among the rich of Paris, an 
enlightened taste for the arts and a noble manner in supporting 
them. At his beautiful house in the Rue Basse-du-Rempart 

1 Jean Baptists Sommariva, who was born at Sant' Angelo Lodigiano in 1762, 
was an advocate at Lodi, a partisan of the French in 1796, a member of the 
Milan Municipality and of the General Administration of Lombardy in May, 
President of the Municipality in August, and General Secretary of the Executive 
Directory of the Cisalpine Eepublic (June 1797-April 1798). A refugee in 
France in the year 1799, he returned after Marengo, became a member of the 
Government Commission (June 21, 1800), President of the Triumviral Com 
mittee (September 24. 1800-February 14, 1802), and tried in vain to overthrow 
Melzi. He became a Mecsenas, thanks to his thefts, which got him the nick- 
name of sublime ladro. He died in Milan in 1826. — A. C. 



200 BARON DE FRENILLY 

there was a small collection of masterpieces of the Italian 
School, including La Madeleine, the most admirable of the 
works of Canova, who worked for him a good deal. M. de 
Sommariva had had a little sacellum expressly made for it at 
the end of his apartment ; it was partly a chapel, partly a 
boudoir, furnished in violet, and lit solely by an alabaster lamp 
hanging from the dome, beneath which crouched the dying 
Magdalen. On the death of the marquis, a few years later, 
his fortune, pictures and sculpture passed to his son, a sort of 
savage who hid himself. Only three years ago, in 1834, it was 
proved to me that he continued — at any rate financially — his 
father's protection of the arts. As regards taste and discern- 
ment, that is another matter. We were concluding a tour of 
the Lake of Como by a dinner at the inn at Cadenabbia, and 
whilst the meal was being prepared went to visit the neighbour- 
ing Villa Sommariva. After ringing at the gate for a very long 
time, a gardener came to tell us that strangers could visit the 
house only on one day of the week. Now, I had no desire 
either to return or to remain for three days at Cadenabbia, so I 
immediately decided on three lines of action in order to open 
the doors. I adopted the French tone, that manner which is 
not my own, but before which everything bows in Italy ; I 
slipped a thaler into the man's hands ; and I declared that I 
was a friend of the late M. Sommariva who had come to visit his 
son. Whereupon the gate opened. I believe that the second 
argument would have sufficed. We then crossed a pretty 
terraced garden rising from the lake to the villa. On entering 
the vestibule I was recognised by the late marquis' valet de 
chamhre, and from that moment everything was open to our 
inspection, with the exception of a study to which the owner of 
the house had retired with his family to escape from us. This 
was neither polite nor hospitable, but I who had so often done 
the same at Bourneville could not complain. So my friend the 
valet led us from room to room. In an immense room there 
was arranged as a frieze the Triumph of Alexander by Thorvald- 
sen, that dry, hard and cold successor of the amiable Canova. 
Thence we passed into a drawing-room decorated by two large 
freshly-painted pictures that had come from Paris ; anonymous 
works, and very worthy of remaining so. Adjoining was a 



M. DE ROMFORD 201 

much smaller salon, probably used by the lady of the house. 
This was a charming room, but in the middle, on a pedestal, 
was Canova''s gigantic, nude Palamede, which, since it had been 
made for one of the galleries of the Vatican, simply overwhelmed 
the poor little salon. On the other side of the large hall there 
had just been unpacked another of Canova's works, the group 
Amour et Psyche, which we admired. But, two years later, at 
Rome, the sculptor Tadolini, Canova''s best pupil, told me that 
the original of this group was in London, and that Sommariva 
had only a copy which he, Tadolini, had made. I have said 
enough, however, about the Sommarivas, whom I now leave for 
ever. 

I must not forget to mention the epopee of the winter of 
1801. The heroine was my old " comrade " Mme. de Lavoisier, 
and the subject the civil war of the house of Rumford. Mme. 
de Lavoisier wanted a second husband. It was necessary that 
he should be illustrious, so that there would be no loss of rank, 
and philosophical, so that harmony would reign in the house- 
hold. Since I had lost sight of her she had taken her flight 
in more than one respect. From the big shoes which she for- 
merly wore when walking from the Tuileries to the Arsenal she 
had risen to a cabriolet. Now, M. de Rumford, a chemist and 
philanthropist from Pennsylvania, had just appeared — after 
building chimneys in London, organising kitchens at Munich, 
and filling Europe with economical soups — on the Parisian 
horizon, crowned with that halo of glory which comes only 
from afar. He was a tall, well-shaped man of about fifty, dry 
and stiff like an American, as proud and superb as a Repub- 
lican, the bearer of a title and a Bavarian ribbon, but apart 
from these distinctions, his stoves and his soups, without a 
fortune. Mme. de Lavoisier saw the Count, and said to her- 
self: "There's my man." Unfortunately for her, however, 
the Count did not say : " There's the woman for me." He 
allowed himself to be attracted and adored, and then went 
back to Germany. I should have done the same. But for 
Rumford to scorn such a fortune because the heroine was ugly, 
old and enormously stout, was too fantastic for the belief of 
Parisians. His Ariane thought likewise, so, instead of amusing 
herself by dying on a rock, followed the Count to Munich, with 



202 BARON DE FRENILLY 

the oft'er of her hand, heart and fortune. How the rest of 
the story proceeded I cannot say, but it concluded by the 
Count being touched by so much love or so many donations, 
and marrying her, at the same time consenting to her retaining 
the glory of both her names by calling herself Lavoisier, Com- 
tesse de Rumford. This femme a deux maris then settled down 
in a charming house, siu-rounded by an English garden, in the 
Rue d'Anjou. You entered from the street through a large 
gate and reached the house and a very fine greenhouse by way 
of a broad, winding alley. It was a real country house in the 
finest quarter of Paris. How long the honeymoon lasted in 
this delightful spot I cannot tell you, but this I know for cer- 
tain, that philosophy, which was to introduce harmony into the 
household, very quickly produced an exactly opposite effect. 
When the American Count had finished exercising his authority 
over the stoves and ranges of the house, he wished to exercise 
it over his wife, who, having had forty-five years' independence, 
expected to govern rather than be governed. Rumford went 
with his complaints to everybody, greatly to the amusement of 
Parisians, for, with the Civil Code in one hand and the Deca- 
logue in the other, he took the marriage laws most seriously. 
He was the t3Tant of a tragi-comedy ; the poor Countess, the 
innocent, unfortunate and persecuted wife. At last the valets 
were dismissed, the gate was hermetically closed, and a vigilant 
person placed on guard. Madame had still permission to 
receive her friends at the gate and converse with them through 
the bars. But this favour did not last long. An incident 
occurred. One morning the contents of the greenhouse were 
found greatly damaged. Next to smoke, plants were M. 
Rumford's greatest passion. Questioned, Madame blamed the 
household cat. A pane of glass being broken, the husband 
seized the cat and measured it ; and on finding that the animal 
could not get through the hole, locked Mme. de Rumford in 
her room. We were not told if she were put on bread and 
water ; but a few days later it was rumoured — and people were 
talking of nothing else just then — that she had left her room 
and was living in the cellar. This was on a Sunday. Toiu-oUe, 
who, as a relative, was still allowed entrance, went to pay a 
visit. He gave his name, entered, and searched the place from 



A SOCIETY COMEDY 203 

top to bottom without finding a soul. He was beginning to 
be frightened when, at the end of a corridor, a tall figure in a 
white dressing-gown appeared before him. " What, sir, do you 
want here ? " shouted the tyrant — for it was he. " Monsieiu-," 
replied TouroUe, moving backwards, " I have come to pay my 

respects to my "" " To your cousin," interjected Rumford. 

" Well then, let me tell you, sir, that she is being punished and 
receives no one." Tourolle, who was still receding backwards, 
then found that he had reached the staircase, which he descended 
four steps at a time, to arrive at Mme. de La Briche's somewhat 
pale. As he entered there was a general cry of : " Well ? 
What about Mme. de Rumford ? What is she doing ? Where 
is she ? " " In the cellar," replied Tourolle. Whereupon there 
was an universal uproar. Some were excited to pity, but the 
majority laughed. This poor woman, with her philosophy, 
liberalism, moustache and cabriolet, interested no one. The 
Vicomte de Vintimille cried in an affected manner : " She is in 
the cellar ! Does the barbarian intend to put her en pieces ? " 
At last the long comedy which had amused all Paris for two 
or three months ended. M. de Rumford listened to reason when 
it was backed up by money. The price was discussed and the 
less he was offered the more padlocks he put on his prisoner's 
door. In short, Madame finished by paying heavily and the 
tyrant left. He has not been seen since. And thus did she 
become a widow with a husband still living, an additional name, 
and three to four hundred thousand francs to the bad. 

Teiest, September 25, 1838. 

Where have I got to .? And where, after a break of seven 
months, occupied by travelling and business, shall I take up 
the thread of my story ? I have been back here three weeks, 
and shall be off again in three days. Ought I, with so short a 
time at my disposal, to go back thirty-eight years ? Before 
my memory has collected materials those three days will be 

1 " Mettre en pieces " means both "put into barrels " and " tear to pieces." — 
Translator. 

2 On the subject of this stormy union, see a passage in Guillois' Le Salon de 
Mme. Hehitms, pp. 240-243 ; and on the last days of Mme. de Kumford, M. 
Adrien Delahante's line Famille de Unance a% dix-haitUme siecle, pp. 543- 
549.— A. C. 



204 BARON DE FRENILLY 

over, and I shall be travelling towards Gratz. But what shall 
I do on these three days ? I must kill time. Very well then, 
let me continue my story-telling. 

On March 15, 1801, my wife gave birth to my dear Claire, 
who was born with beautiful auburn hair. She was suckled by 
her mother, as her brother has been since ; and certainly 
Rousseau would have done nothing but good had he spoken 
merely to such mothers. A healthy woman of twenty-seven, 
living a simple, regular life, makes the best of nurses ; a deli- 
cate woman of eighteen, lively and infatuated with society, 
necessarily the worst. The child was vaccinated when six 
weeks old, and after this we said a long farewell to Paris. 

Gratz, September 27, 1889, on returning from the Ischl baths. 

It soon became necessary to leave my young wife and child 
and go to Senlis for the hearing of the lawsuit which we had 
brought against Baron de Wrentz. Bourneville hung in the 
balance. Cavaignac had sent me from Paris a young honest 
and clever advocate — eloquent, too, and cheap. Thanks to the 
Revolution we then knew neither Dupin, nor Mauguin, nor 
their conceit, nor their charges, which I have since come to 
know too well. I won my case. The Baron appealed and it 
was on this appeal that we came to terms. 

On May 31, 1801, we feted the first anniversary of our 
marriage, modestly and alone, for there was yet only one grove 
that could be illuminated and only one guest, my brother-in- 
law, with whom I set off on the following day to divide our 
Nivernais, Touraine and Berry estates, the usufruct of half of 
which belonged to him. My horses took us as far as Fon- 
tainebleau, where we slept ; stage-waggons the remainder of our 
joiu-ney to Cosne, which is quite near to Alligny. We had to 
put up at my tenant's. All that I remember of this little 
sojourn is that the wife of one of my metayers was confined, 
and that, whilst her husband came to ask me to be godfather 
and made many excuses to my brother-in-law for not having a 
godchild to offer him also, his wife got him out of the difficulty 
by giving birth to a second child. After this, in stage-waggon 
after stage-waggon, we went to Bourges to sleep. The next 
morning a public vehicle took us to Issoudun in company with 



BOURNEVILLE 205 

a M. Aignan,^ an innocent young poet whom I had met at 
M. du Moley's, at Meung, and who, with a bouquet of 
orange blossoms in one hand and a Homer in the other, was on 
his way to fete the birth of a child of the wife of the Sub- 
Prefect of Issoudun. This good young man has since made his 
way in the world ; he has published a poor translation of the 
Illiad and sat in one of the forty fmdeuils. He was a good 
fellow, courteous and mediocre — in short, the stuff of which 
Academicians are made. 

We made our division and got rid of a little steward who 
had thrown everything into terrible disorder. Then, early 
in July, I returned to Bourneville unexpectedly, receiving 
Alexandrine and Claire in my arms before anybody else knew 
of my arrival. 

I had brought some money back with me and should very 
much have liked to have put it on one side. But everything 
around me called for its expenditure. My Icarian predecessor 
had everywhere started on gigantic undertakings of the nature 
of the terrible colonnades with which Le Doux had surrounded 
Paris, and it was necessary to demolish, fill up, and clear away 
everything in order to arrange things on a more reasonable 
scale. A huge excavation in the kitchen-garden became a large, 
fine vaulted greenhouse with two staircases. An enormous 
hole in the walls became a gateway. The kitchen garden 
became very fine, one of the finest, if not the finest I have seen 
in France. Arranged a la Montreuil, its espaliers had every 
advantage of situation as regards sun, shelter, &c. I am in no 
way exaggerating when I say that we have counted a little more 
than eight hundred peaches on a single one of those fine trees. 
Their variety and profusion was such that, each morning, after 
having placed the finest fruit for our personal use in a large 
flat basket lined with wadded tafffetas and gathered a supply for 
the servants, we amused ourselves by distributing the remainder 
to the finest sheep, without counting what was consumed by the 
friends and assistants of my learned gardener, the illustrious 
Chaton. 

Possessing extensive meadows, marshes, and other barren 

1 Btienne Aignan, bora at Beaugency in 1773, died November 25, 1824 
member of the Academy in 1814, author of tragedies. — A. C. 



206 BARON DE FRENILLY 

tracts, I saw them in imagination shaded by sixty thousand 
magnificent trees. Twenty years later they were, indeed, so 
covered. My first efforts in that direction happily cost me 
very little. I began by establishing three large nurseries pro- 
portionate to the number of projected plantations and the sorts 
of trees intended for each soil, for my land was infinite in its 
variety, ranging as it did from peat to heathy soil, and from 
sand to the soil of the Beauce. Awaiting the time, however, 
when the product of these nurseries would enable me to begin 
regular plantations, some hundreds of Swiss poplars scattered 
over my fields furnished me for three years with my first trees. 
The men climbed to the topmost branches and cut a selection 
of the youngest and straightest shoots, which only required to 
be planted in the damp meadows a little before the rising of 
the sap. A few years later, a celebrated agriculturist, the 
Marquis de Crevecoeur, was dining with me at Mme. d'Houde- 
tofs. He did not know me. In the course of conversation 
he related that whilst travelling from Meaux to Villers-Cotterets 
he had got out of his carriage and stopped two hours to visit 
the finest and best arranged plantations he had ever seen in his 
life. These were my saplings. At the end of twenty-five years 
a large number of them were six to nine feet in circumference, 
and from sixty to eighty feet in height. I sold the finest for 
as much as three louis each. 

I also transformed several arpents of land into orchards and 
planted a number of alleys with fruit trees. There were, 
amongst others, twenty- three species of cherries and every good 
species of pear and plum. 

This was but the beginning. A few years later I undertook 
the exploitation of the farm nearest to the chateau, applying the 
rotation system to its four hundred arpents, increasing, ameli- 
orating, and splitting up the flock of merino sheep. 

And what about the education of my children ? I held in 
horror public education as made by the Revolution. We did 
not wish to bring up subjects for the executioner of the Due 
d'Enghien, the oppressor of France and the scourge of Europe, 
yet, on the other hand, no tutor or governess could inspire the 
confidence that we felt in ourselves. So I found it necessary to 
divest my work of everything that was superfluous, and Ariosto, 



PAULINE BONAPARTE 207 

whom I was translating into verse, received for many years but 
the crumbs from the children's table, after Latin, English, 
Grammar, History and Geography had been served upon it. 

Let me return for a moment to the gardens of Bourneville. 
Never shall I see again its fine park, and it pains me to shorten 
my walk. It was in the early years that I planted it — that is 
to say united and arranged its ancient scattered plantations 
and formed a complete interior park of fifty large arpenta 
enclosed by walls. My exterior park consisted of one hundred 
large arpents^ surrounded by hedges, and extended as far as the 
Forest of Villers-Cotterets. 

Here I ought to pass over a period of five years, for five 
years of uniform happiness leave a great blank in the memory, 
and domestic peace is like peace among nations — it is a lean 
time for history. But as yet I have given only a bare sketch of 
the neighbourhood of Bourneville. 

Towards the north of the Forest and about three leagues 
from Bourneville stood the big Chateau de Montgobert, a 
modern building, heavy and in bad taste, formerly the property 
of Mme. L'Empereur's father, and, I believe, built by him. 
It had a short time before passed into the hands of General 
Leclerc, the husband of Pauline Bonaparte, who really had 
nothing human about her but coquetry and caprice. All the 
rest of her belonged to Venus — I mean Canova's Venus} As 
for me, whom she ravished at the first glance and deigned to 
try to fascinate, I was unable to judge of anything save her 
head and feet. But men of art placed her above the charming 
statue that Canova made of her, where she preferred glory to 
her chemise — that statue in speaking of which people said to 
her : " What ! you posed like that ? " and to whom she replied : 
" Oh ! but there was a stove." 

I have already spoken, I believe, of Thury. As to the 
Chateau of Villers-Cotterets I have not said that this habita- 
tion of Henry IV. and the brother of Louis XIV. had been 
turned by the Revolution into a workhouse and let for four 

1 She became Princess Borghfese, and said of her sisters, one the Queen of 
Naples, the other the Grand Duchess of Tuscany : " One of those canailleg 
married the son of an innkeeper, the other a tennis-scorer, I am the only one 
of the family that has made a decent marriage." — F. 



208 BARON DE FRENILLY 

thousand francs a year to the MunicipaHty of Paris. Now, 
after the Restoration, Philippe Egahte's son, cleverer than 
all the emigres, got together all his properties and even his 
appanages, including Villers-Cotterets. Rights over the Ourcq, 
which ran through my estate, formed part. I had lived 
at peace with the nation, but with Louis Philippe it was 
necessary to plead. As right was entirely on my side, 
we compromised, and I thought it my duty, on the 
occasion of this settlement, to go to Neuilly and pay him a 
polite visit, much though it displeased me. After being 
honoured by his cringes — for his bows, which were infinite in 
number, could be called by no other name — and feted as 
though I were a conspirator, I made bold to remind him of the 
chateau of his ancestors and our kings, now a mutilated building 
and occupied by the vilest rabble. " Ah ! " he replied, " do 
not mention it. It is my cross, and I must bear it for four 
years longer, for the lease does not expire until then." It 
occurred to me that in the case of a Due d"'Orleans and the 
Municipality of Paris it could easily have been cancelled. But 
let that pass. When the lease expired four years later Louis 
Philippe renewed it and the beggars are still at Villers-Cotterets. 
It is true that he increased the rent by a thousand francs. 

On March 15, 1802, Claire's first birthday was celebrated 
by a ball which I opened with her. She had just been weaned. 
A tree, which grew less rapidly than she did, was planted ; 
many guns were fired ; verses by the Cure were simg ; and a 
fete was given to the whole of the village. But the anniversary 
of May 31 of this year was much more brilliant than that of 
the previous year, for it was becoming possible to walk around 
the chateau. Two years later, on January 4, 1804, we had a 
third anniversary, on the occasion of the birth, at Bourneville, 
of my son Olivier. 

In the following year — if it were not this very year 1804 — 
I was obliged to undertake the longest journey that I had 
made since my marriage. I believe that I have already 
explained that I had inherited from my uncle the post of 
Administrator-General of Crown I^ands and from my father the 
position of Receiver-General forComte d'Artois' appanage, Poitou 
and Angoumois. On the one hand, the nation had robbed me of 



POITIERS REVISITED 209 

all that my mother had not been able to use of the sixteen hundred 
thousand francs which the first post represented, and, on the other, 
of two-thirds of the revenue of the second. Nevertheless, after 
thirteen or fourteen years, the Court of Accounts applied to me 
for very minute accounts of the latter post, which I had never 
managed. My men of business were vainly struggling with the 
difficulty and old Des Minieres, a hardened aristocrat, declared 
that he owed accounts only to me and H.R.H. the Comte 
d'Artois. As it was absolutely necessary to get out of this 
labyrinth I set off alone in search of my documents. Taking 
the Poitou diligence, I arrived three days later at the Hotel de 
la Bourdonnais, at Poitiers, after an absence of fourteen years. 
In every house of the town I had left a male or female friend, 
or at least an acquaintance. But fourteen years had passed ! 
There had been the emigration and the Terror ! I felt that I 
should find but shadows or invalids. However, on arriving at 
nine o'clock at night, I hastened where a tender habit had so 
often led me in former days — to the house of the Margarets. 
The aunt and uncle were dead, and Amaranthe, who had two 
or three children, had married Lauzon, an excellent fellow and 
the best of husbands. All that, I knew already. On entering 
the house, I met in the antechamber two of the old servants, 
and forbade them to announce my name. The doors of a room 
were opened and I entered a brilliantly illuminated drawing- 
room where five or six groups of people were at play. I 
recognised no one and nobody recognised me. Open-mouthed, 
each stared at my travelling costume. At last, one of the 
players scrutinised my face, threw down his dice-box, pushed 
the table from him and threw his arms round my neck. It was 
Lauzon. He announced my name and immediately I had 
twenty-five friends there. Leaving the backgammon tables, 
they one by one embraced me. " What ! you do not recognise 
me ; I'm such and such a person : Vittre, Irland de Bazoges, 
Tryon, etc.," they cried. At last I recognised everybody and 
especially the ladies, who would not have been pleased at the 
thought that they had changed. Amaranthe was still charm- 
ing and that soiree de resurrection was very agreeable to me. I 
devoted a week to these friends of my youth — time that was by 
no means lost from a business point of view, for, thanks to good 

o 



210 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Laiizon and his little wife, I won the heart of a young 
Directrice des Domaines and indirectly that of her husband, 
who accredited me all over Poitou by giving me an order to 
his sub-directors and others to lay their registers before me 
and deliver the documents I needed. Thus, with head on high 
and my pockets full of conquests, I returned to Paris, and 
shortly afterwards received my discharge. 

Meanwhile Bonaparte was making a very different sort of 
conquest ; he was exchanging his Consul's hat for the crown 
of France. Active preparations were being made in Paris for 
the coronation. I felt no interest whatever in this ill-omened 
ceremony, which produced more banterers than dupes ; but 
Mme. de La Briche, who missed seeing none of the sights, 
begged me to accompany her. As far as I recollect, it was 
in the course of December — for there had been a heavy fall of 
snow, it was exceedingly cold, and the sun was shining splen- 
didly — that I went to her Paris house and even slept there, so 
that she could be more certain of me. Now, in the Rue Saint 
Honore, on the route to be followed by the procession, a 
M. Martin, my silk dealer, had a house with a balcony. Having 
given him notice of our intended visit, I set off in the snow, at 
seven o'clock on the morning of the comedy, from the Place de 
la Ville TEveque, with Mme. de La Briche on one arm and 
Mme. Mole on the other. Carriages were forbidden, so we had 
to elbow our way to M. Martin's balcony. But of the endless 
pomp of that day — for though the people shouted " Begin ! 
Begin ! " nothing started until ten or eleven o'clock, on account, 
it was said, of the future Empress's toilette — of all that pomp 
there remains in my memory naught save the sad and mortified 
face of the Pope, sitting alone in his carriage, drawn by eight 
white horses and preceded, as it was necessary to recognise him 
as a sovereign, by four heralds at arms. I also recollect his 
cross-bearer, an dbhe with a three-cornered hat mounted on a 
little dark-bay mule. The crowd laughed at the mule and 
then knelt before the Pope, for devotion was becoming very 
fashionable again. It was one way of disowning the Revo- 
lution. 

One hour after the Pope's cortege had passed, Bonaparte's 
appeared, with a grand display of troops and horses. Plumes 



NAPOLEON'S CORONATION 211 

waved and bran-new galloons sparkled in the sun ; but there 
was not a well-known face, not a well-known name, except in 
the small towns where one had taken off his apron and another 
had put aside his awl in order to disguise themselves as noble 
lords. 

From that handsome buffoon, Murat, who had risen from his 
father's inn to the Government of Paris, and whence he was to 
rise to a throne ; from the three imperial sisters who had left 
the washing of their chemises at Marseilles to come to Paris, 
beplumed and covered with diamonds, to carry the train of 
Barras' former mistress ; from those menial grand officers, the 
Montmorencys, the Cosses, the La Tremoilles, and others who 
had been installed but a fortnight ; from all these to the little 
old soldier of the 13 th of Vendemiaire, who figured in his 
coronation carriage in a dalmatica and white cloak, the pro- 
cession was but a masquerade in which every one had put on 
his or her costume for trial, and for which no one had yet 
studied his or her role. This saturnalia was the subject for 
either laughter or tears, according to individual taste and 
character. Bonaparte set off by way of the Rue Saint Honore 
as First Consul, and returned as an Emperor by the boulevards, 
the alleys of which were very prettily illuminated. After 
giving my two companions a dinner at a restaurant we went to 
Mme. de Vinde's, at the corner of the boulevard and the Rue 
Grange-Bateliere, to witness his return from the terrace of the 
Hotel de Grammont. 

In the winter of 1805 our good grandmother Fortier died, 
at the age, I believe, of eighty-five or eighty-six. She had 
shone during the brilliant years of the eighteenth century in a 
society of lawyers and men of wit. Latterly she had become a 
little shrivelled old woman, living in confinement in a small 
house at Neuilly. She owned a charming residence in the 
Palais Royal, which, thanks to Philippe Egalite, was now 
nothing more than a bazaar. I built there, from the Rue de 
Richelieu to the Palais Royal, a very fine passage containing 
many shops ; and the property, which had formerly brought 
me only ten to twelve thousand francs, produced a revenue 
of twenty-two thousand. This was the first instalment of my 
hundred thousand francs income. 



212 BARON DE FRENILLY 

The same year my dear aunt De Chazet, pious and resigned, 
died at St. Germain, thus ending in sorrow and ill-fortune a 
life begun in pleasure and luxury. The Marquise de Bon had 
just died far from her in Languedoc, after being overwhelmed 
by misfortune and losing her two sons. 

In the spring of 1806 poor Belin died in the small third- 
floor apartment which I had retained in the Rue de BufFault 
for his family and myself. I sincerely regretted his loss, for, 
although he was only mediocre as a servant, he was faithful, 
exceedingly devoted, and had been seventeen years in my 
service. 

In the same year I also lost my sister''s tenderest friend, the 
Marquise de La Goy. As to her husband, he died some eleven 
years ago on his estate in Provence. 

The last loss of that year was that of little Mme. Terray, 
nee Claire de Vinde, who, exhausted by the birth of four strong 
children, ended her days at Bagneres de Luchon. 

In the autumn of 1806 we decided to return from our six 
years' exile — years that, taking one thing with another, had 
perhaps been the happiest in our lives. We were far from 
being rich, but henceforth our fortune was sufficiently large to 
enable us to spend four months of the winter in Paris without 
descending below the standard of the society to which we had 
been accustomed. It is true that our budget would not have 
sufficed for every one, but my household was run on economical 
lines, and upon it, as in other things, we always spent a third 
less than other people and made quite as good a show. Add 
to this that my children as yet cost hardly anything, that 
luxury in Paris was only just beginning to make its appearance, 
and that living cost only half of what it does to-day. As an 
example, I need only mention the price of an apartment which 
I then rented. It was on the first floor of a fine house at the 
corner of the Faubourg Saint Honore and the little Rue Verte, 
in the finest quarter of Paris. Large and well decorated, and 
with its stables and coach-house, it cost me, during the nine 
years that I occupied it, only two thousand seven hundred francs 
per annum. 



CHAPTER VIII 
1807 

Parisian Society — Urtubise — Mme. de Montbreton — La Comtesse 
d'AfEry — The Marquis de Lage — The Mortefontaines — LuUin de 
Chateauvieux — Voght — Julien — The Marais Theatre — Dazincourt — 
Death of M. de Vogiie — Mole Prefect of the Cote-d'Or. 

January 22, 1840. 

It was on January 10, 1807, that we returned to Paris. This 
precision with regard to the date is due to a task which I 
imposed upon myself after returning from Ischl, and which 
occupied me six weeks. I have been through all my wife"'s 
letters and my own, which she has had the goodness to 
preserve, in addition to those of my children and friends — 
a heap of dusty records dating from 1807 until the present 
day. 

I possessed many good friends. My good, simple, cheerful 
and witty wife had a salon noted for its good tone, charming 
grace and good taste. We at once became intimate with every- 
body whom we wished to know. There were no introductions ; 
I detested them ; no ice to be broken, or melted. I am still 
touched when I recollect seeing Christian de Lamoignon bring- 
ing us his young wife, whom mine had not yet seen, and before 
she had even had the time to leave a card upon her. 

What was this society of which we took possession, or which 

took possession of us in so friendly a manner ? First of all — 

and this was no small advantage — it was almost entirely at our 

door. Then, the families composing it were related to each 

other, and to be friends with one was to be friends with all. 

It was the dovecote of the Faubourg Saint Honore, with all 

the nests touching, and certainly at that time the most 

213 



214 BARON DE FRENILLY 

agreeable place of residence imaginable. I have now but to 
name all the persons whom, here and there, I have already 
described. .There was Mme. de La Briche, and under the same 
roof, at the fine Hotel de Saint Florentin, Mathieu Mole and 
his wife. Vicomtesse d'Houdetot, her two husbands, two of her 
grandchildren, and the amiable Frederic d'Houdetot lived 
almost opposite to us, in an old house that was on a par with 
her Sannois cabaret. The Comtesse de Damas and the young 
Vogues lived a few yards from us in a small modern house that 
was fairly magnificent but very gloomy and exceedingly damp, 
and which M. de Castellane has since turned into a theatre. 

A little further away, on the Place Beauvau, were the 
excellent Rosambos and their young family ; then the Due de 
Rohan-Chabot and his little duchess, formerly Mme. de La 
Borde. 

If we went as far as the Rue d'Anjou, we found there, under 
the same roof, Mme. de la Live and her two daughters, Mmes. 
de Vintimille and De Fezensac ; then Pasquier, his wife and his 
sister, — that virtuous and antique Mile. Pasquier, who had all 
her sister-in-law''s merits and graces, in addition to that honeyed 
crabbedness which is the ordinary attribute of old maids ; and, 
finally. Christian de Lamoignon's household, which was not yet 
occupying the royal Hotel Mole in the Rue Saint Dominique. 

The Lamoignons were then residing opposite the famous 
Marquis d'Aligre, the grandson of the chancellors, a poor man 
burdened with millions, more fortunate in his business affairs 
than in his magnificence, but who lived in an invariable sibi 
constet, as singular in the one as in the other. ^ 

Opposite M. d'Aligre's and next door to the Lamoignons 
skulked his brother-in-law Boissy, who was no more diverted 
by luxury and the opinion of others from the passion of 
hoarding than his wife. I have seen him from Christian's 
windows collecting sticks in his garden for the kitchen. 

But Providence had retained for the avaricious Boissy a son- 
in-law in the person of M. de Preaulx. The millionaire nephew 
of my old friend Comte de Preaulx d"'Ecueille, he lived most 

1 The Marquis d'Aligre founded with a very large part of his fortune 
immense charitable institutions that still exist, and was the victim of an 
unjustified legend. — A, C. 



THE FAUBOURG ST. HONORE 215 

poorly with his Httle wife in a small and wretched house at 
Chaillot, in order to dispense with entertaining. On ball 
nights he walked with her to the Hotel de JBoi^sy. There, 
after putting on a dress, she stepped into her father's carriage, 
nicely painted, but not picked out with other colours, by his 
painter and glazier. When the ball was over, she left the 
carriage and dress at home and returned to Chaillot on foot. 
Little Mme. Lamoignon, who, as a neighbour, knew many 
secrets connected with these households, used thus to differentiate 
between d'Aligre''s haughtiness and his brother-in-law's modesty : 
" At the time when alms are being solicited for the poor," she 
said, " M. de Boissy's porter replies, ' Monsieur does not give,' 
and the majestic doorkeeper at the Hotel d'Aligre, ' Monsieur 
has his own poor.'" 

Mentioning these characters has taken me from the subject 
of our amiable society of the Faubourg Saint-Honore, where 
you ran hardly any risk of meeting them. Mme. Pastoret, who 
lived under the colonnade of the Place Louis XV., was its 
mainstay. At her house I met her good and pleasant uncle, 
M. de I'Etang, one of my father's old friends, full of urbanity^ 
grace, tenderness and sagacity ; a type of amiable old man that 
has now disappeared. But, without going so far, I meet again 
in the Rue d'Anjou and at that very Hotel d'Aligre, the old 
Abbe Morellet, fallen from his philosophical elevation, honoured 
for his courage during the Revolution, and become, if not a 
Christian, at least tolerant and a royalist. He had two nieces 
who once a week did the honours of his modest house. One 
was the good and affectionate Mme. Belz, his favourite, and to 
whom he later left his whole fortune — a room full of manu- 
scripts ; the other, the austere and garrulous Mme.Cheron, at the 
bottom a good person, who, without having any more wit than her 
sister (who had a good deal), made it sparkle much more. Her 
husband was that good Cheron who, under a heavy and vulgar 
exterior, possessed a pleasing wit, and who died Prefect of 
Poitiers at the outset of his career. 

Further on, in the same Rue d'Anjou, I also find my old 

1 Cheron (1758-1807), deputy to the Legislative Assembly, Prefect of the 
Vienne in 1805, had two plays performed : Gaton d' Utique and Le Tartufe de 
mmurs. — A. C. 



216 BARON DE FRENILLY 

friend Urtubise, one of the four Montbretons, and far and away 
the best of them. He and his wife, who had just changed the 
name of Lomenie de Brienne for that of Mme. Auguste de 
Montbreton, occupied a modest entresol in his father's superb 
house. He was neither a well-shaped nor a graceful man, and 
had neither the manners of the grand monde nor what is called 
wit, but he was preeminently a man of good sense and honour. 
When quite young, at the dawn of the Revolution, he had, 
through the recall of the Due de La Vauguyon, carried on 
alone, under difficult circumstances, the duties of Spanish 
Ambassador,^ thereby acquiring a universal reputation which 
would have led him to any post had his honour not constantly 
prompted him to refuse everything, even under the Empire. 
For a long time he was the friend and, I believe, the lover of 
the Comtesse de Lomenie, whom the Terror had made a young 
and childless widow. He had just, at last, married her, and 
was to live but a short time after the marriage. She had been 
merely a Mile, de Merville, the daughter of a very wealthy 
Bordeaux merchant or financier. After associating with her, 
we came to like her, and she ended by becoming our intimate 
friend. 

The Countesse dAffry, daughter of M. de Garville, and first 
cousin of my old friend D'Orcy, found us again and sought our 
society. She was partly ruined, very much isolated, although 
she saw everybody — a fawning, flattering, insinuating, though 
rather witty woman, in addition to being exceedingly romantic 
and prodigiously sentimental. 

Another widow with whom we were later intimately con- 
nected was the Marquise de Lage (Mile. dAmblimont de 
Perigord) who, after her long migrations, was then resting in 
her agreeable retreat in the Rue des Saussayes. Charming at 
the Court of Versailles, she had become coarsely ugly. But 
she was remarkable on account of her inexhaustible, original, 
piquant, frank and occasionally cynical wit, and because of her 
brilliant conversation, nourished by a passionate, impetuous 
character, and by a life of travel and misfortune. The friend 

1 Cf. in regard to the diplomatic r6le of Urtubise — " a calm and serious 
man" — M. Geofifroy de Grandmaison's L'amhasiade frangaise en E»pagnc 
pendcmt la Revolution. — A. C. 



MME. DE MORTEFONTAINE 217 

of the Comte d'Artois, after being that of the Comtesse de 
Polastron, she was obliging and devoted, although curious. 
The best trait in her character was that she had kept many 
assiduous friends around her, and lived solely for an elder 
daughter (Mme. Sumter) who, through the misfortunes of the 
times, had married in South Carolina/ 

Let me conclude my account of this beloved faubourg by 
speaking of the Mortefontaine family. Mme. de Mortefontaine 
was the daughter of the regicide Le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau, 
the most shamefully dissolute man of his day, and niece of that 
charming scamp De Saint-Fargeau who, after being driven 
from Coblentz, took refuge in revolutionary depravity. Married 
by her adopted mother to a Dutchman, M. de Witt, she found 
herself from early youth excluded by the good society of 
France. It was unfortunate but just ; for on the day when there 
is no more honour or dishonour for those whose ancestors have 
acted well or ill society will have ceased to exist. Scoffed at 
everywhere, she could be seen furtively attending some enter- 
tainment or subscription ball, where her beauty and the fatal 
romance of her life caused her to be noticed as Mme. Tallien 
and a few others were noticed. On being left a widow, child- 
less and still divinely beautiful, she became the friend of her 
cousin Le Peletier de Mortefontaine, and it was through this 
liaison that Providence (if she troubles herself about such 
things) allowed the glimmer of a new life to penetrate to her. 
Le Peletier de Mortefontaine was a tall, handsome man, melan- 
choly and austere, pure in his morals, and possessed of princi- 
ples that, staunchly aristocratic, appeared to be trying to atone 
for the errors of his family. His taciturnity was really extra- 
ordinary, and the impress of this has since appeared on the 
Hotel de Charost, which he bought in the Champs-Elysees. 
This house, which was resplendent with light and cheerfulness, 

1 Cf. Les Souvenirs d' Emigration de Mme. la Marquise de Ldge de Volude 
(1869). Beatrix Etiennette Renart de Fuchsamberg d'Amblimont (1764-1842), 
wife of Comte de Lage de Volude (1782), emigrated with Mme. de Lamballe 
the day after June 20, 1792, returned to France in the following July, left for 
America in 1793 on a vessel which was captured by a privateer and taken to 
Spain, where she resided from 1794 to 1800. Her daughter Natalie, who set 
out before her, reached America and remained there until 1802, when she 
returned to France to marry Mr, Sumter, a Chargg d'affaires of the United 
-A. C, 



218 BARON DE FRENILLY 

he so completely varnished with Egyptian earth and ornamented 
with sphynx, Egyptian terminals and Paestum colunms that it 
became a tomb in the sun. This honest man transformed 
his young wife, who, after loving him as a lover, revered him 
as though he were a father. Everybody knows how many 
times she wept in despair, and how ardently she supplicated 
him, before he would consent to share his name with her. On 
becoming Mme. de Mortefontaine she turned, like her husband, 
thoroughly religious, aristocratic and royalist, and began by 
circumspectly slipping into a few families of the old magistra- 
ture. I saw her for the first time at Mme. de Vinde's. Then 
she soared towards the Faubourg Saint- Honore, and at the 
period of which I am writing began to be seen there under the 
protection of Mme. de La Briche. People noticed the new 
face, asked to whom it belonged, and expressed surprise. But 
little by little their astonishment disappeared. She kept a 
good but modest house ; for society would have been shocked 
by brilliancy. People went to see her and she went to see 
them. She was seen to be beautiful, good, and on a level with 
our society. Every word, every step, every act of hers effaced 
a recollection. Her husband lived but a short time after this 
period ; but she remained a Mortefontaine, grafted upon him, 
regenerated, rebaptized, and sought after by the best Parisian 
society. Her career once more proves — but this is especially 
rare in the case of a woman — that there is no position, how- 
ever desperate, from which one cannot extricate oneself by a 
wise conduct. She had two infant daughters. Marguerite and 
Suzanne, the first of whom became Mme. de Boisgelin, the 
other Mme. de Talleyrand.^ 

Such were the people who formed the basis of the society of 
our faiLhourg. The others consisted of a few bachelors or men 
who took their place, such as Tourolle, Terray, Alexandre de 
La Borde, Biencourt, Laborie, Piscatory, Mme. Pastorefs very 
witty brother, Bonneuil, already the widower, I believe, of his 
charming wife, Norvins, Villemoyenne, Lacretelle, Chateauvieux, 
Baron de Voght, and Julien. Let me say a few words more 
about the last three. 

1 Cf. Charles Nauroy's Rivolutionnaires, pp. 236-242, and Le Curieux 
vol, ii. pp. 225-230,— A. C. 



1 



BARON DE VOGHT 219 

Lullin de Chateauvieux was a Genevese, and I do not know 
whether his father had not been colonel of the regiment bearing 
his name. He was a little man who moderated a certain 
Genevan stiffness by much French obligingness, lively and witty, 
with eyes that told you so in advance and a solid education as a 
basis. We had common interests in agriculture and for some 
years corresponded on the subject. About that time he wrote 
a little Voyage d'ltalie^ in which, by insisting on statistical and 
agricultural reports, he managed, with undoubted merit, to say 
something new.''' 

Stout Baron de Voght was an exceedingly wealthy citizen of 
Hamburg — universal as regards everything that was mediocre, 
and saturated with that overflowing Germanic enthusiasm in com- 
parison with which the Italian is coolness itself. He had a 
passion for music and painting, for poetry and prose, for big as 
well as little things, for the beauties of Nature and — as he was 
a cosmopolitan — for the world. A mistress of Auguste de 
Lamoignon (the one whose hair was died blue) said of him : 
" I am passionately fond of Baron de Voght. He's a universal 
man. II a de la galanterie, il a de la chevalerie, il a de la 
vacherie . . . ." Agriculture, in fact, was not the least of his 
passions, and on his Flottbeck estate, near Hamburg, he 
possessed the finest nurseries in Europe, which I had promised 
to go and see. I also had a place in the catalogue of his 
passions, for he was rather fond of me and we were some years 
in correspondence. He had founded and directed the Hamburg 
poor relief system, and it was he who electrified and guided our 
little Parisian ladies in the establishment of a magasin de 
charite at which all the goods given or made by them were sold 
in aid of the poor, who received the money to enable them to 
work in their turn and replenish, in proportion to the sales, 
the shop that nourished them.^ 

As to Julien, the younger and very wealthy brother of old 
Mme. Rillet and great-uncle of the young D'Orvilliers, his 

1 He is better kno'wn by his Manuscrit de Sainte-HiUne, -which Napoleon 
took the trouble to refute. — A. C. 

2 As regards Baron de Voght, cf. A. Chuquet's Etudes d'histoire, 2nd series, 
pp. 111-112 ; Herriot's Mme. Bicamier et ses amis, vol. i. p. 203 ; Gautier's 
Mme. de Stael et Napoleon, pp. 235 and 282 and Mme. de Chastenay's Mimoires 
vol. ii. p.90.— A. C. 



220 BARON DE FRENILLY 

English dress, celibacy, elegant bachelor''s home, and a certain 
natural originality retained for him in society the attitude of a 
young man. Somewhat odd, tolerably egoistical, but a very 
good man at bottom, he cultivated our society to a certain 
extent and liked us fairly well. But ten or twelve years later 
he completely fell out with me, without my ever being able to 
find out why, unless the reason was that he was inseparable 
from Pasquier and glossed his political antipathies less than 
the latter.^ 

Outside the Faubourg Saint Honore, the only people with 
whom we were on intimate terms were the Vindes, who 
were quite out of touch with that coterie and avoided it ; the 
De Chamois, so good and so friendly, but unknown to all our 
acquaintances and confined to the upper part of the Faubourg 
Poissonniere ; the D'Orvilliers, who, in the Rue Basse-du- 
Rempart, were much closer neighbours ; good Mme. Le 
Senechal ; and the beautiful Mme. de Saint-Just. 

A few people had regular evenings. It was not yet the 
fashion to eat ices standing up and whilst walking on people's 
toes. But, as twenty years before, you could move about, sit 
down, converse and sup. We are already acquainted with 
Mme. de La Briche's Sundays and IMme. d'Houdetofs Tuesdays. 
Mme. Pastorefs gatherings were on Saturdays ; the Duchesse 
de Rohan's on Fridays ; and Mme. d'Orglandes"" on Thursdays. 
I believe that the Abbe Morellet had his on Mondays, whilst 
our own soirees were on Wednesdays. In addition, I gave a 
little dinner every week to six of the most intimate and in- 
telligent of the men whom I have named. At other people's 
houses there were suppers and dinners, but on no fixed days. I 
who care little for dining out was faithful only to Mme. 
d'Houdetot's immovable Tuesdays and the Vindes' Mondays. 

I had, moreover, an excellent cook. Mile. Victoire, who had 
been brought up in my house, and, thanks to a carrier of Ferte- 
Milon, who brought us game, poultry, turkeys, ducks, pigeons, 
and vegetables from Bourneville every week, leaving only bread 
and butcher's meat to be bought, we kept a very good table. 
As to fruit, wood, hay and oats, this come to us by the Ourcq 

1 Doubtless the friend of Chateaubriand and Mme, de Beaumont (M^moire 
d'Outre-Tombe, vol, ii. p. 273).— A. C. 



MY LITERARY LABOURS 221 

at the beginning of the winter, and I believe that no one could 
have lived so well and so economically as we did. My staff of 
servants consisted of a femme de chambre, a children's nurse, a 
cook and her assistant, a coachman and two lackeys — quite a 
modest establishment, but equal to the best that then existed. 
One of these lackeys was a German who, on account of his 
activity and handiness, was worth three ordinary ones ; but I was 
unable to keep him because of his mistakes in speaking and his 
incorrigible aversion for the articles in people's names which he 
democratically suppressed in every case. He announced, instead 
of Mme. de La Briche, Mme. Briche, instead of M. de Lamoignon, 
M. Moignon, and instead of Mme. de La Borde, Mme. Le 
Borgne ! 

Such was our coterie and home in Paris. Two things 
occupied my leisure hours that winter : the publication of my 
volume of poems and the performance of my opera Alfred^ for 
which Gaveaux had written the music. But Alfred dealt with 
the country of Pitt, and in the following month of September, 
when the play had been announced and on the very eve of the 
premiere^ Bonaparte forbade it. This was his only victory over 
the English. As to my poems, Laborie carried them off pro- 
mising me glory, and I ended by paying for the edition. To 
this day I am ignorant as to whether it was exhausted. But I 
printed on it neither the author's name, nor a preface, nor an 
advertisement ; and I took no steps whatever to draw attention 
to it.^ 

As my wife was still unacquainted with my Touraine and 
Berry properties, we decided to spend a few months of the fine 
season there. So, on May 2, I went to Bourneville to make 
the necessary preparations for a long absence. I returned to 
Paris on the 24th, fully convinced that I should be able to take 
all my family away with me early in June. But my son caught 
the whooping-cough and his sister took it from him, so that 
my wife was unable to leave Paris. I spent three months 
passing backwards and forwards on horseback or in the diligence 
between my babes and my sheep, between deserted Paris and 
solitary Bourneville. 

1 This volume — almost mysterious — had, however, a great success in society 
without reaching the real reading public. — A. C. 



222 BARON DE FRENILLY 

During this time a more rapid traveller was crossing Europe 
in seven-league boots, pursuing the Russians into Poland, 
winning the bloody battle of Friedland, and signing, on the 
extreme limits of Poland, the Peace of Tilsit. It was there 
that the poor King of Prussia, who was dining with him, took 
his glass in hand and said : " To the health of the hero who 
gives me back my States,''"' whereupon Bonaparte stopped him 
with the words : " Do not drink it all." A pretty phrase this 
in the mouth of the man who called the terrible battlefield of 
Eylau " a great consumption of men " and conscripts " food 
for cannon " ! 

Another affair of State began to occupy the attention of the 
good society of Paris. This was nothing less than the " Grands 
Jom*s " at Le Marais, the plays which were invariably performed 
between the last Sunday in August and the second Sunday in 
September. Owing to the abandonment of our Touraine 
journey, several roles had been conferred upon me, including 
that of Lucas in VEpreuve villageoise and that of Henry IV. in 
La Partie de chasse. On August 24 I arrived from Bourne- 
ville in the mail-coach, embraced my wife and children, dined 
our Crispin, Vandceuvre, an excellent actor, who was later to 
play Jacobin comedies in Parliament,^ set off with him for Le 
Marais in his cabriolet, and in the evening was in the midst of 
thirty friends. 

Good little Mme. Mole, who was a more than mediocre 
actress but an indefatigable impresaria, had that year enrolled 
the celebrated Dazincourt, one of the most amiable of the 
remaining members of our Comedie-Fran9aise. He was an 
accomplished and mordant author, pure as regards his taste 
and always comical ; and he had retained from the society of 
former days the best of manners and the most perfect decorum. 
He accepted only two small parts, as much as to say : " Fm 
not a member of your society, but here only to assist you."" 
He spoke little, but when you wanted him to, and then in a 
manner that amused everybody. He was indefatigable at our 
rehearsals, at which he arranged charming scenes, and ever 

1 Baron de Vandoeuvre, auditor to the Council of State under the Empire, 
master of requests under the Kestoration, deputy and peer of France, was, 
as Norvins says also, a very good actor. — A. C. 



"GRANDS JOURS" DU MARAIS 223 

acted the part of a professor, never that of a colleague. We 
were exceedingly fond of him, and he supported his boredom 
with the best grace in the world. 

We gave two performances of each play, one on the Saturday, 
called the " dress rehearsal," for the middle-class crowd of Dour- 
dan, Arpajon, and neighbouring villages ; the other on the 
following day for the aristocracy of neighbouring chateaux^ who 
came to converse or eat ices in the drawing-rooms after the 
performance, and who filled the courtyards with a multitude of 
carriages worthy of the most brilliant days at the Opera 
Through this arrangement we had the trouble and Mme. Mole 
the pleasure of playing six times instead of three. These 
three weeks of fairy scenes were crowned by a solemn game of 
prisoner's base in the only alley of the park that was both 
straight and flat. In the evening impromptu proverbs were 
played in the drawing-room. Dazincourt and Vandoeuvre were 
charming. 

After a flying visit to Bourneville, where I intentionally 
arrived unexpectedly in order to make my employees think that 
I was always behind the door, I descended upon Champlatreux. 
There, between two large screens, forming a boudoir in the 
large salon, was grouped a selection of the brilliant Marais 
crowd. In addition to the Vintimilles, the Fezensacs, and the 
D'Houdetots, there was Chateaubriand and a person whom no 
one, I believe, had yet seen with him — his wife. I should 
have preferred to say " his female," for, as I have already said, 
she had certainly come out of the same nest, if not from the 
same egg as he ; and this perfect assortment of two of the 
most ill-matched characters I have ever known easily enables 
one to see how it was they wildly rushed into marriage, left 
each other impetuously, and came together again thoughtlessly. 

Two days after my return to Paris on October 8 poor Vogue 
fractured his skull by falling from his horse on to the grass on 
the Champ de Mars. This appeared to be unbelievable until 
the surgeon found that his skull was hardly thicker than an 
egg-shell, and that it was miraculous he had lived so long as 
he had. 

It was not, therefore, until about October 15 that we 
returned to Bourneville. Shortly afterwards, in November, 



224 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Mathieu Mole, who was yet but a Master of Requests in the 
new career into which Laborie's intrigues, and especially his 
ambition, had thrown him, was appointed Prefect of the Cote 
d'Or. At the end of December he settled down in Dijon with 
his wife and mother-in-law. It was a sorrow for Paris, and 
caused a great void in our poor faubourg. 



CHAPTER IX 

1808-1810 

Illness — Pieyre — Orleans — The Joan of Arc Fete — The Gomtesse 
d'Affry again — Death of Mme. de Mony — Despreaux's " petites 
jambes " — Napoleon's Divorce — The Royalists at the Tuileries — The 
King of Rome — Terray's Second Marriage — Oesarine d'Houdetot and 
Barante — Annette de Mackau and Watier de Saint-Alphonse. 

Our winter in Paris was the same as the preceding one. There 
was the same company, the same reception day at my own 
house as at the houses of others. Nothing w^as lacking save 
the house of Mme. de La Briche, whose guests did not return 
— and then only on a holiday — until the end of March. The 
proverbs that had been produced during the " Grands Jours " 
at Le Marais were played again at my house and were 
found much gayer, because the audience was neither men- 
tally nor physically fatigued. The actors were Rosambo, 
Vandoeuvre, Mezy, and our new friend Dazincourt. There 
was a large number of guests, including some very well-known 
people. 

The success of my poems had intoxicated me. A good 
patriot and still hostile to Voltaire, I decided to compose an 
epic poem on the subject of Joan of Arc. I divided it into 
twelve cantos, and had written the early ones in prose when an 
incident occurred that somewhat interfered with my work. At 
that time there was a prevalence of those pernicious cerebral 
or ataxic fevers which appear in the form of a tertian fever but 
carry off their victim at the third or fourth attack. We had 
had a very recent example in the case of one of my farm 
labourers. On the day following his first attack he worked as 

usual, had a second attack the next day, worked a little less 

225 p 



226 BARON DE FRENILLY 

hard, and then died in the course of the third attack, to the 
great astonishment of the whole district. This was exactly 
what happened to me, except that I did not die. My exhausted 
brain was first of all seized with a slight attack of fever. The 
next day I attended to my duties as usual. On the following 
day there was a second attack, accompanied by horrible pains 
in my head. Finally, two days later, in the morning, the 
third attack arrived and with it unconsciousness up to the 
moment when I found they were wheeling me about my bed- 
room with my head covered with ice and my feet in mustard. 
Then I indistinctly began to hear little Dr. Jouard saying to 
my wife : " If he recovers consciousness he is saved.*" He was 
acquainted with this treacherous fever, and knew there was 
only one thing to be done : fight against it whilst the attack 
was on and conquer it. No one, I believe, had done this up 
to then. He tried his treatment and succeeded, and thereby 
gained a great reputation. 

After this adventure my wife and friends were not on good 
terms with Joan of Arc, but, owing to the trouble they took 
to separate us, she became all the dearer to me. Ours was a 
secret intrigue and I no longer saw her except by chance. 
However, I took care to make our departure fit in with the 
time at which her fete was to be celebrated at Orleans. I 
wished to study that town in its fifteenth-century setting, and to 
consult some manuscripts there. An old literary acquaintance, 
Pieyre, the esteemed author of the play, UEcole des peres, was 
of great assistance to me in this respect. The excellent man 
had an elder brother who was Prefect of Orleans ; they lived 
together, and it was through them that I gained access to their 
town. We arrived there on the evening of May 6, and I spent 
three days over my investigations. 

What struck me most at this Joan of Arc fete was the 
indifference or rather the mocking cynicism of the public. A 
long procession, escorted by all the counterjumpers of the 
town, Bonaparte's guards of honour, in red gallooned coats, 
was followed in the Cathedial by a panegyric — very weari- 
some, I admit, but which these amiable youths enlivened by 

1 Pieyre (Pierre Alexandre), born on April 30, 1752, at Nlmes, died on 
June 20, 1830.— A. C. 



MOLE AT DIJON 227 

quotations from Voltaire's Pucelle, whispered from one to the 
other. 

In the autumn of 1808 Paris had to go without the 
pleasures of Le Marais. Frederic d'Houdetot had just been 
appointed Prefect of Ghent/ and the death of Mme. de la 
Live de Jully, which occurred in May, still kept her daughters, 
Mmes. de Fezensac and de Vintimille, in mourning. Mme. de 
La Briche had followed the Moles to Dijon. I recollect that 
• Mathieu still wrote to me fairly often. He pretended to be 
dying of ennui in his exile and that he could find nothing to do. 
It was then that I began to appreciate not his heart but his 
mind and character. I who in my youth had looked upon an 
intendancy as the finest post that a man of heart and intelli- 
gence could desire, what could I think of a man who, at thirty 
years of age, found that his prefecture left him too much 
leisure ? This narrow-minded man thought that by reading 
reports, attending council meetings, and signing documents, he 
was carrying out the duties of a Prefect, and he wrote to me : 
" Everything is completely finished by noon, leaving me nothing 
more to do." The fact of the matter is he did not know how 
to do anything more. 

As for me, the work connected with my agricultural enter- 
prises at Bourneville and in Touraine carried me so far into 
the autumn that it was not until December 3 that we set off 
back to Paris by way of Tours. It was the time of the great 
piece of juggling over the crown of Spain, and the roads along 
which we passed were crowded with splendid troops who were 
on their way to find a grave in the Peninsula. We were unable 
to reach Paris until December 7. Three days later I left my 
wife and children to return to Bourneville. I found every- 
thing in good order. On the 27 th I was back in Paris, to 
find my house enriched, as though by enchantment, by a com- 
plete set of silver plate, lustres, carpets, &c. Whence had 
they come ? My incomparable wife had sold several pieces of 
jewellery in order to give me this pleasant surprise ! But of 

1 In reference to Frederic d'Houdetot as Prefect of Ghent, see Lanzac de 
Laborie's La domination franqaise en Belgique, vol. ii. p. 20. Born in 1778, 
Sub-prefect of Chateau-Salins, Prefect of the Scheldt in 1808, of Dyle in 1812, 
and of Calvados in 1849 and in 1852, and Member of the Institute, he died in 
Paris in 1859.— A. 0. 



228 BARON DE FRENILLY 

our life in Paris during that winter of 1809 I can recollect 
nothing either new or distinctive, except that we became a 
little more intimate with the Damas family and had a new 
guest in the person of the Vicomtesse d'Affry. 

She was the only daughter of Receiver- General Gigot de 
Garville of whom I have spoken in the account of my travels in 
Switzerland. I then saw her at the Chateau de Greng, in 
company with my poor friend D'Orcy, who was her first cousin. 
That was twenty-two years ago. She was now living in Paris, 
a childless widow and almost ruined, partly through the 
Revolution, partly because of her father's speculations, and 
partly owing to herself. When we met her in society I was 
ignorant as to her very existence. Hearing that my house was 
not without its charms, she was seized with a fond recollection 
of me, became ardently fond of my wife, and an assiduous 
visitor. The year afterwards she came to Bourneville, She 
was of a fawning, flattering, insinuating, melancholy, romantic, 
splenetic, capricious disposition — and burdened with debts. 
She borrowed money from me and promised to return it in Paris 
in a week's time. Six months later I again asked her to repay 
me and we then quarrelled. I have since learnt that she was 
an old offender. Little by little she disappeared from society. 

In the course of this winter we sustained a very great loss 
through the death of our friend Mme. de Mony, who had been 
responsible for my marriage and given her name to my son. She 
died slowly from a female ailment which the brutal skill of the 
famous Dubois either accelerated or rendered fatal. 

iNNSBKtrCK, September 5, 1840. 

According to custom, which entirely regulated our life, we 
returned to Paris in December. Our winter there was also the 
same as usual. The only fresh thing that I can recollect were 
Despreaux'g "petites jambes." Despreaux, a charming song- 
writer, excellent table-companion, and formerly a mediocre 
supernumerary in the ballets at the Opera, had married the 
celebrated danseuse Guimard. He was very skilful at cutting 
out images in paper, and could even compose pictures in that 
way, with their various planes, shadows, &:c. ; he knew how to 
make a person's likeness out of a card which he tore with his 



DESPREAUX 229 

hands behind his back ; and, finally, to all his talents he 
added that of being able — bad dancer though he was — to show 
others how to dance, to hold themselves, to enter and leave a 
room, &c., better than my old masters Vestris and Petit. His 
services were in request everjrwhere. The Empress Beauhar- 
nais, who possessed but the grace of Martinique, took lessons in 
deportment from him. He showed her august husband how to 
sit on his throne and dance the Monaco. He was the director 
of publicj^^g*, and the Carmontelle of the Empire. He deigned 
to descend from this Empyrean to train my children's little feet 
— not as a paid professor (I should not have dared to have 
offered him money) but as a friend and a comrade of fortune. 
The Revolution had deprived him of his cross-capers as it had 
robbed me of my posts and patrimony ; we had since made songs 
together and he had retained a certain attachment for me, . . . 
But what about his " petites jambes ? " I am coming to that. 
When the Opera of the Porte Saint Martin, which still exists, 
was built in three months and for three years, there was made 
for the King's amusement a model of that beautiful and charming 
theatre. All the boxes were filled with little figures of ladies in 
full dress. There was the curtain, the stage, the scenery, and 
everything. This miniature theatre had escaped the Revolution 
and come — how I know not — into Despreaux's possession. Now, 
he possessed the art of imitating to perfection the dancing of all 
the famous dancers of his time. But he did this not with his 
feet but with his fingers. When the first and third fingers of 
each hand were dressed in beautiful little white silk stockings 
and tiny shoes, the rest of the hands being covered up, he could 
make them execute pas de deux to perfection. This illusion 
was produced in the following manner. The Lilliputian Opera 
was placed in the middle of a drawing-room ; the orchestra, in 
a corner of the room, struck up a ballet tune ; and Gardel, the 
former director of ballets, cried out "Raise the curtain." The 
curtain rose but stopped at the height of Despreaux's fingers, 
that is to say at the height of the dancers' knees. Whereupon 
there was a quarrel between the manager and the stage 
decorator. It was found, however, that the curtain would not 
go up any higher, so, for once, the audience was requested to be 
content with things as they were, and the ballet opened. Such, 



230 BARON DE FRENILLY 

then were Despreaus's " petites jambes," which the spectators 
recognised as imitating the " Diou " of the ballet, her son, 
Mile. Guimard, Mile. Herel, Gardel, Nivelon, Mile. Allard, 
Mmes. Perignon, Clotilde, Miller and Duport. It was difficult 
to obtain this performance, which greatly fatigued poor 
Despreaux, and it required all the friendship which I inspired 
in him to get him to consent to give it in my salon to a small 
company of intimate friends. 

It was about this time that Bonaparte grew angry with his 
brother Louis, whom he had made King of Holland, and who 
instead of making himself the Emperor's humble instrument, 
took it into his head to defend his subjects against the extor- 
tions of Saint Cloud. Driven from his throne, this scrupulous 
simpleton went into Switzerland to write poetry and prose, 
after which he vegetated in Florence, where he still lives, the 
widower of that amiable Hortense Beauharnais who danced so 
well, wrote such pretty songs, and so cordially detested her 
royal and sullen husband. Everybody except her gave their 
first sons to Bonaparte, who did not refrain from committing 
adultery with his wife's daughter and his brother's wife. 

Another big affair had just been brought to a conclusion : 
the divorce of Bonaparte and Josephine. But it was not an 
annulled marriage. The marriage had not been celebrated by 
the Church,^ so could not be dissolved. They invented a new 
sort of divorce, and hardly had Josephine, the exiled legitimate 
wife, retired to Malmaison when Marie Louise, Archduchess 
of Austria, an eighteen-year-old concubine whom the good 
Emperor Francis had sacrificed for fear of seeing Bonaparte at 
Schonbrunn for a third time— entered, at Fontainebleau, the 
bed of a married man. Everybody in France sjrmpathised with 
her ; we looked upon her from afar as a victim who had been 
sacrificed to the repose of Germany ; and had she been un- 
happy she would have been adored. But the goose began to 

1 Frederic Masson has refuted these calumnies. Cf. NapoUon et safamille, 
vol. ii. pp. 157-162.— A. C. 

2 It is now known, as M. Masson has shown, that there was a scene from 
Le Mariage ford. The Pope could not crown Napoleon and Josephine unless 
they were married religiously, so on the eve of the coronation, in a room at 
the Tuileries, the religious marriage was celebrated by Fesch, secretly and 
without witnesses. — A. 0, 



SOCIETY AND THE COURT 231 

dance and to laugh and especially to love her Gengiskan ; so 
henceforth we regarded her as his accomplice. 

But society, taken as a whole, began to change its face. 
Many people, whose virtue could stand the strain no longer, 
became reconciled with the Court at the Tuileries. Married to 
a great-niece of Marie Antoinette, Bonaparte called Louis XVI. 
his uncle with such a good grace that one's fidelity had to be 
terribly stubborn to resist this pseudo-legitimacy. Moreover, 
he who had shot down the royalists of Toulon and Paris had 
become their warmest partisan, their most openly avowed 
master. Sincerely and also because it was to his own interest, 
he was the enemy of their most detested enemy — Jacobinism. 
He reigned in a strong and magnificent manner, paid and 
recompensed like a king, bestowed endowments, titles and king- 
doms. Kings came to pay him homage. . . . To have expected 
little dukes and marquesses whom the Revolution had impove- 
rished to act the part of a Diogenes before such an Alexander 
was to ask too much of humanity. 

Part of the society in which we mixed — that is, the best 
society of Paris, had then allowed itself to be allured to the 
Tuileries. These deserters were none the worse received by 
us, provided they left off their embroidered court dress before 
entering our drawing-rooms, appeared to be proud to wear a 
dress coat again, and rivalled each other in slandering the 
master whom they had just been flattering. Mathieu and 
Pasquier — artful, sagacious, dissembling, and with a future 
before them — did not give way to this weakness ; they let 
people talk and said not a word. I was still on intimate terms 
with the latter and a great friend of the former, who had just 
been promoted to the then superb position of Director-General 
of the road-surveying department, and who carried out his 
duties in those delicious boudoirs called the Petit Bourbon, 
which the Prince de Conde had built for quite another 
purpose. 

The birth of the King of Rome, by opening up the prospect 
of a dynasty, finally turned the heads of all these people. It 
was announced by a hundred cannon shots. There would have 
been only twenty-one had the child been a girl. We refractory 
aristocrats counted them anxiously. The twenty-second shot 



232 BARON DE FRENILLY 

stunned us ; for it seemed to us to kill the Bourbon race. On the 
contrary, by removing all bounds to the fathers ambition and 
extravagant enterprises, it brought it back to France. After 
his fall and when the child was taken by his mother to Vienna, 
his grandfather the Emperor Francis showed him great friend- 
ship. But his life was a burden on the royalists. " Little 
man," said Queen Caroline of Naples, Marie Antoinette'^s sister 
and the flower of the aristocracy, to him, " when you are grown 
up recollect that there is only one career that is suitable for 
you — that of a Capuchin." 

In May, my friend Terray, still full of vigour and piety, was 
forced to marry again in order to add a few more children to 
the four he had already had by his poor little wife. He mar- 
ried a Mile, de Mareuil, of a parliamentary family — a person 
neither young nor pretty, delicate and thin, gentle and meri- 
torious, while everything about her seemed to say : " I have 
received a good education at the Place Royale." Mme. de Vinde 
could not conceive that any one could get over the loss of her 
daughter, and her despair amounted to anger. 

Two other marriages were celebrated that autumn. On 
November 20, Cesarine, the youngest of the five D'Houdetot 
females who had fallen from San Domingo into their grand- 
mother's arms, was married by Mme. de La Briche, who had 
adopted her, to young Barante, son of the Prefect of Geneva, 
a young fellow of considerable merit, intelligence and even 
talent, and who had acquired an honourable position in society 
by a literary history of the eighteenth century. We have since 
seen Barante loaded with favours by the Bourbons and am- 
bassador for Louis Philippe in Russia. Cesarine brought him a 
small dowry, given by Mme. de La Briche, and the Prefecture 
of Bourbon- Vendee, where he wrote the fine chapter describing 
the Bocage in Mme. de la Rochejacquelein's Memoires} I was 
very fond of him. But when Decazes made him a peer he 
became a fanatical supporter of that rascal, whom I despised 
as much then as I do now, and all was over between us.^ 

1 He even drew up the whole of the Marquise's Memoires. — A. C. 

2 Barante (1782-1866) was appointed Prefect of the Vendee on February 12, 
1809, and created a baron in the same year. He became Prefect of the 
Loire Inferieure on March 12, 1813, and a peer of France on March 5, 1819. — 
A. 0. 



GENERAL WATIER 233 

The other marriage, which took place in December, was 
that of my pretty niece — a la mode de Bretagne — Annette de 
Mackau and General Comte Watier de Saint- Alphonse, imperial 
equerry, whom the Revolution and the Empire had endowed 
with an income of one hundred thousand francs. Yet he came 
of a good family, and was also a good and honest man, full of 
noble feelings, which he showed at the Restoration and at the 
usurpation of Louis Philippe.^ 

1 In regard to Watier, see Thiebault's Memoires, passim, and especially 
vol. iv. p. 527, and vol. v. p. 331. — ^A. C. 



CHAPTER X 

1811-1814 

Esmenard — Comte Germain — Marriage of the d'Houdetot tribe — 
Napoleon and La Bouillerie — Tchernitscheff — Napoleon and Poland — 
M. and Mme. de Crisenoy — Death of Mme. d'Houdetot — The Abbe 
Delille — Disasters — The Allies in France — Their conduct — Flight to 
Beauvais and Mesnil — A Day at Dreux — Return to Paris — The Abbe 
de Montesquiou — A Russian Colonel — Monsieur's entry into Paris — 
Louis XVIII. at Compiegne — The Saint Ouen Declaration — The King 
in Paris — The Ministers, 

It was in the summer of this year that there died, from a terrible 
fall in Italy ,^ the dull and correct author of that long poem, 
entitled La Navigation — Esmenard, who, a weak counterpart of 
the Abbe Delille, turned out his imaginative works as a shoe- 
maker turns out shoes. He was succeeded at the Institute by 
Chateaubriand. 

That is all I recollect of the annals of the salons. As to those 
of history, the northern horizon was black with clouds. Since 
Austria had become a humble ally, Prussia a humiliated vassal, 
and the Germanic body a confederation obedient to the orders of 
its new protector, there was no longer any barrier between the 
two inseparable friends, Alexander and Bonaparte ; and we know 
what friends are in politics, when there is nothing but a frontier 
to separate them. 

The Continental blockade of England was certainly a genial 
idea, a fine and gigantic conception. Its only weak point was 
the impossibility of accomplishing it ; for to have succeeded it 
would have been necessary to have called in the aid of too many 
willing forces or to have subjected too many unwilling ones. 

Russia, whilst carrying out the conditions of the last treaty, 
1 June 25, 1811.— A. C. 
234 



THE D'HOUDETOTS 235 

felt heavily the burden of an embargo that caused its people to 
rise and ruined them more than England. Alexander gradually 
swerved from the prohibition. But Bonaparte was inflexible on 
this point ; he would have conquered the world to have 
closed the country to Birmingham steel and Cornish tin. Every- 
thing, then, pointed to a coming struggle between the two 
giants. 

Our life that winter was modelled exactly on that of previous 
years ; there were the same friends, the same diners and the same 
people to supper. Mme. de La Briche was the only one missing. 
The excellent woman, ever courageous and ever booted, had gone 
to spend the winter at Bourbon- Vendee to see to the ministerial 
education of the prefect's young wife. Meanwhile, Constance 
d'Houdetot, the second of the five, married a M. Germain, son 
of the famous goldsmith and Bonaparte's chamberlain. The 
Prefecture of Macon and, I believe, the title of count (for there 
was not a d'Houdetot that did not profit by Mme. de La Briche's 
star) turned this young chamberlain into a petty fop of fine 
stature and handsome face who, with his back to his aunt's 
chimney-piece, used to hold forth in a high tone and with great 
volubility, much to the astonishment of the members of the two 
rvohle faubourgs. " When a person has no pride," I said of him, 
"he is impertinent."^ 

I will here seize the opportunity of mentioning the strange 
marriages of the other members of this tribe. The eldest, Elisa, 
her grandmothcir's inseparable companion, a good and gentle 
girl who would have been beautiful but for the pimples that 
covered her face, married a M. de Bazancourt, a Picardian noble- 
man who had been one of the judges of the Due d'Enghien. 
She did not know this until after she was married, but her 
brother and Mathieu knew on the eve of the ceremony. One 
was Prefect of Ghent, the other Director-General of the road- 
surveying department. To have spoken would have caused a 
rupture, and a rupture with the master himself, so, preferring to 
sacrifice the poor girl rather than their positions, they kept 
silent. However, Bazancourt behaved himself very well. Every 
door was closed to him. Fouche sought to obtain secret accusa- 

1 Auguste Jean, Oomte G-ermain (1786-1821) married Constance Jeanne 
d'Houdetot on February 24, 1812.— A. C. 



236 BARON DE FRENILLY 

tions from him ; but he would say nothing, except that he was 
satisfied with everybody. 

The fourth, Celine, a charming little doll, was married to a 
M. Langlois d'Amilly, who was celebrated for having the finest 
legs in France. Nothing more is recorded about him. 

Finally, the last, Ernestine, who, though not pretty, was a girl 
of good sense and merit, despite her father and mother, married 
a Swiss, a great lover of music and a handsome man, who, by a 
previous marriage in England, had inherited a splendid fortune 
and the name of Fleming. 

Geatz, Octoher 28, 1840. 

The time for war with Russia was ripe. Bonaparte, who was 
almost always ill in time of peace, unbuttoned his coat and said : 
*' I must make war."' He had four hundred millions in little 
gold barrels in his cellars, under the care of the excellent La 
Bouillerie, the most faithful of treasurers and one of the most 
upright, simple, loyal and wise men I have known. One day 
when the Emperor Avas reckoning up his treasures with him, 
Napoleon said to him : " You see all these barrels. Well, at 
the end of the campaign, not one of them will remain." " Sire,"" 
replied the good treasurer, " there is a means by which you can 
keep them." " And what is that ? " asked Bonaparte. " By not 
making war," said La Bouillerie. " You are a good fellow," 
exclaimed the Emperor, slapping him on the shoulder. 

Before leaving Paris the Russian envoy, TschernitschefF, had 
paid a clerk in the war-office a very high price for a copy 
of Bonaparte's plan of campaign. But hardly had he left 
when the plot was discovered. The clerk was decapitated. 
But though message after message was sent by telegraph, the 
Russians crossed the frontier before the order to stop them 
arrived. Everything had to be recommenced. Perhaps it 
would have been more skilful to have left things as they were.^ 

On June 23, Bonaparte had four hundred thousand Frenchmen 
on the banks of the Niemen — certainly the most brilliant army 
that had ever been seen, and of which he might have said, alas ! 
what he said to La Bouillerie when speaking of his fom- hundred 

1 As regards this episode, see Vandal's XapoUon et Alexandre ler, vol. ill. 
pp 306-321.— A. C. 



THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN 237 

millions. To it he added the contingents of Italy, Prussia, 
Austria, and the Germanic Confederation. This man, like a 
torrent, rolled the whole universe before him. Before leaving 
Paris he had forcibly enrolled one hundred and fifty of the highest 
titled young men in France by sending them officers' commis- 
sions. These were the hostages of the Faubourg Saint Germain. 
This flower of the nobility set off, like the conscripts, furious 
and in despair, but returned after six months intoxicated with 
glory, eager for the fray, and enthusiastic over the Empire. 
Excellent, but horrible policy ! 

Bonaparte crossed the Niemen, occupied Vilna and Lithuania, 
and entered Smolensk. He had thus accomplished the most 
important conquest of modern times, driven Russia back to her 
former boundaries, acquired the right to reconstitute behind his 
innumerable army that Poland which was then mad with joy 
and devotion, to make this natural and necessary ally of France 
an advance fortress which would have served as a rampart 
against Russia and as a guarantee against the Germanic empire. 
There can be no doubt that this idea entered Bonaparte's head ; 
the Abbe de Pradfs mission to Warsaw sufficiently proves it. 
But there can also be no doubt that the sole object of the errand 
of this intriguing buffi3on was to stir up in Poland a rising 
favourable to the French armies, and that the project of re- 
modelling the country was postponed. Bonaparte dropped his 
prey for the sake of a shadow, and thus from the most glorious 
of campaigns, from the sure germ of a long peace and mag- 
nificent European restoration, there came the most terrible 
catastrophe that France had yet undergone. His gigantic ex- 
pedition became similar to that of Cambyses in Egypt. Whilst 
this glorious madman was thinking that because he was in 
Moscow he was dominating Russia, whilst he was signing there 
notarial appointments and theatre-decrees, and whilst he was 
having vaudevilles performed, Alexander was amusing his am- 
bassador Lauriston, and Rostopchine was burning the city. It 
was easy to count those who returned ; impossible to count those 
who remained ; and it was not until two years later that the 
number of soldiers who saved their lives by entering into slavery 
was known. In the midst of disasters unheard of in the history 
of France, the fatal man quietly abandoned his disbanded army, 



238 BARON DE FRENILLY 

to arrive unexpectedly and incognito at the Tuileries, from 
which the Malet conspiracy so nearly drove him. Had it suc- 
ceeded, he would have fallen from his Empyrean on to some 
barren tract in Poland ; he would have ended as he began ; he 
would have perished as he was born. Heaven refused us this 
act of justice. 

Every family was in mourning, and the last stage of consola- 
tion was to hope that one's sons were in Siberia. Louis de 
Romeuf had been killed at the battle of Moskva ; Aimery de 
Fezensac was a prisoner in Poland ^ ; young Villeblanche had 
had his head blown off near Vilna. An old valet de cJiambre of 
Mme. Pastoret, wishing to follow her son to answer for him, set 
off and was never heard of again. My memory could furnish 
me with other similar examples without leaving my own narrow 
circle. Judge of the tale that the whole of France could have 
told! 

The winter in Paris was sad and mournful. We spent part 
of it in the country, much disquieted by thoughts of the future, 
which looked all the more gloomy as Bonaparte redoubled his 
ardour for war and rejected all overtures of peace. The devas- 
tation of the country places was completed by the conscription. 
Men of all ages and stature, children, and even dwarfs left the 
harrow or the plough to take part in the spring butcheries, and 
the coming campaign promised to be but a throw of the dice 
with the destiny of France as the stake. 

The world, however, wagged on, and people married as usual. 
In January 1812 my old friend Tourolle married his amiable 
daughter Caroline to his stout cousin, good Charles de Crisenoy, 
an excellent fellow, full of devotion, good sense and honour. 

In February we lost Mme. d'Houdetot. She died as she had 
lived, the possessor of an ever-lively soul, a frivolous disposition, 
an impressionable heart, a ready wit, a gentle, sincere, and super- 
stitious character. Before getting into bed she never missed 
stamping three times with her heel and throwing three pins over 
her shoulder. Such as she was, she merited friends. She had 

1 Fezensac, who was then twenty-six years of age, was not made prisoner. 
He was colonel of the fourth regiment of the line, and fought so bravely that 
Ney looked upon him as an old colonel. Cf. his Jov,rnal de la campagne de 
Eussie and his Souvenirs militaires de 1804 d 1814, the second book of which 
includes this Journal. — A. C. 



DEATH OF DELILLE 239 

many and lost none, for never did a woman know better how to 
cultivate friendship. With her disappeared the last of those 
enchanting circles which formed, through their wit and ur- 
banity, the capital of Paris and made Paris into the capital of 
Europe. 

Society also lost, in April, two of its former flowers : one, the 
Marquise d'Andlau; the other, Helvetius' second daughter,^ 
mother of our friend Henriette de Rosambo, of her sister 
D'Orglandes, and of her two brothers Felix and Gustave. 

Finally, to complete this list of deaths, France lost in May 
the last of her celebrated poets, the Abbe Delille, who composed 
his verses whilst walking about, declaiming and gesticulating, a 
man who, apart from his talent and unswerving attachment to 
old duties and doctrines, was in everything puerile and frivolous. 
He was the last of our classical writers. He read his verses 
with inimitable perfection. On publishing his poem entitled 
Jardins, he came to my father's country house, glorying over 
the fact that he had received one hundred louis for it — ten 
times more than he thought it was worth. 

As regards the living, Bonaparte, before leaving for Germany, 
made many promotions among my acquaintances. Barante was 
appointed Prefect of Nantes, Frederic d'Houdetot Prefect of 
Brussels, and Pasquier Prefect of Versailles. Mathieu Mole was 
given the portfolio of the Interior, to which was added two 
months later (in June) that of Justice ad interim. He was 
definitely appointed Minister of Justice in October, when he 
resigned the Interior. Knowing thoroughly his ideas and his 
abilily as regards the work of an administration, I was delighted 
that he had left a ministry which is concerned with so many 
things and in which the administrative part so largely predomi- 
nates over the speculative. I was sufficiently well acquainted 
with his capacity — about which he himself knew so very little — 
to be certain that, of a L'Hopital and a Mole, he would have 
only a grave and magisterial face, that he would retain under 
his robes both male and female intriguers — Laborie, Mme. Boni 
de Castellane, and others — and that there would issue from his 

1 In reference to her, her children and Helvetius' descendants, see Charles 
Nauroy's Rivolutionnaires, pp. 253-267, and the same author's Le Curieux, 
vol. ii. pp. 106-110.— A. C. 



240 BARON DE FRENILLY 

ministry neither a Blois nor a Moulins decree. However, he 
had ardently coveted this post. His whole family rej oiced, and, 
liking him as I did then, I too should have rejoiced had I not 
seen that the very foundations of France were giving way. 

The La Briche family was not so perspicacious. At the 
Hotel de la Chancellerie, on the Place Vendome, it imagined 
itself so firmly established that, at the beginning of the following 
winter, Mme. Mole, when complacently showing us the quite new 
arrangement of a low entresol where she lived, beneath the 
reception rooms, added, with a sigh : " There is only one 
inconvenience, I shall have no room for my daughter when 
she marries."" Clotilde was then two years old ! Only sixteen 
years had to elapse before reaching that embarrassing moment ! 
And yet the Allies were already on the Rhine. The Battle of 
Leipzig had decided the fate of Bonaparte and of France. On 
January 1, 1814, the Austrians, Russians and Prussians crossed 
the Rhine ! 

We had returned to Paris in December. There were neither 
suppers, nor balls, nor society gatherings whatsoever. We met 
in small parties, whispering to each other the news that was 
flying about, for newspapers, letters, conversations — all were 
silent. There was only one sort of news and it spread with 
frightful rapidity, because the Government took marvellous care 
to propagate, exaggerate, or invent it — news of devastations and 
massacres committed by the allied troops. 

Authorities say that this winter campaign was the most 
skilful that Bonaparte had conducted. That may be so, since it 
is the only one on which he had not the advantage of numbers^ 
season, the enthusiasm of his troops and the fear of the enemy. 
However that may be, the result could not be doubted. Every 
true friend of the country ardently hoped that, at any cost and 
by no matter whose hand, he would see the downfall of the 
Corsican who, during thirteen years, had made France into what 
Italy was under Nero or under Domitian — a nation that was 
mistress abroad but a slave at home. I must add, however, that 
this patriotism accepted the triumph of the Allies only as a great 
calamity sent by God to annihilate a still greater disaster. In 
the victory of the Coalition it saw only the liberation and not 
the enslavement of the country. Nothing could equal the 



ADVANCE OF THE ALLIES 241 

humiliations that France had endured, and the true patriot was 
he who desired that the country — whatever it might cost and at 
the price of his own ruin — should be re-established on its old 
foundations, torn from the bloody yoke of a foreign upstart, and 
handed back to the Bourbons and its legitimate sovereign. 

Meanwhile the allied forces slowly advanced. They occupied 
Champagne. The Chateau de Brienne, the residence of our 
friend Mme. Auguste de Montbreton, had received a visit from 
them and paid somewhat dearly for it. Not that they had either 
pillaged, burnt or killed. The accounts that she herself gave 
me proved that the versions given by the police were gross 
exaggerations. A few months later, Boissy d'Anglas, whose 
country house near Luciennes had been occupied by an Austrian 
detachment, bitterly remarked to his son, who had gone through 
the Russian campaign : " They've drunk my wine, eaten my fruit, 
and burnt my wood." " Is that all ? "" replied his son. " Well, 
be content, for evidently these fellows don't know their business. 
We did as much in their country, but in addition we violated 
the women, cut down the trees, and burnt the houses." A 
colonel of the Russian Guards who lived with me in Paris in the 
following spring related to us that his steward, being unable 
to satisfy a French requisition, was crucified by our soldiers on 
the chateau door, that they then assembled all the young women 
of the district in a church, violated them, and finally set fire to 
the building. One more little incident and I have finished. 
When, some time afterwards, the allied troops made a movement 
that brought them into the neighbourhood of Bourneville they 
stopped for two days at the little Chateau du Gue-^-Tresmes. 
Dislodged by a French corps, our soldiers found the chateau 
well-furnished and in perfect order. Even a stock of wood, with 
the exception of a few logs, had been left intact. So our troops 
set to work to devastate the chateau and warm themselves with 
the furniture. 

As for myself, it never occurred to me to take any precaution 
whatever against a visit that I hoped would be avoided. It was 
Comte Charles de Damas who pointed out to me that when 
soldiers were in bodies of ten or twenty thousand they were 
hungry, thirsty, and cold, and might even be seized with fancies ; 
and that, though they might be veritable hermits in their dispo- 

Q 



242 BARON DE FRENILLY 

sition, they were surrounded when on the march by a swarm of 
Cossacks, who were the best fellows in the world, but whose only 
pay was what they were able to take. I believed what he said, 
so, on January 20, 1 set off for Bourneville with faithful Belguise, 
the only man in the world to whom I would have confided my 
secret and my fortune. Having sent the concierge on a distant 
errand, we constructed on the following night a hidden recess in 
the attic ; the next night we dug a hole in the cellars, which had 
been abandoned for twenty years ; and on the third we made 
another hole under a clump of trees. In the last was hidden a 
box of silver plate ; in the cellars were concealed choice wines, 
china, crystal ware, &c., and, enclosed in metal boxes, the most 
important of my private documents ; whilst in the attic we 
placed the most precious pieces of furniture. 

In no way did the chateau look unfurnished, and I had no 
wish that it should have that air, for the houses that were the 
most badly treated were just those that had been left bare and 
had an aspect of hostility. I had still left only too many things, 
including pictures and books, that I was never to see again. 

Soon there came the news of the arrival of the Austrians at 
Chateau-Thierry. Advising the concierge and the steward to be 
prudent and polite, the servants to show obedience, and the 
inhabitants to be resigned, we left the chateau, apart from its 
hiding-places, in the state of a house that has been inhabited up 
to the last moment, and ready to receive its owner*'s guests. 
The next day we were at the Hotel du Cygne, on the town 
square at Beauvais. Here my wife wished to stop, but the town 
was so full that no inn wanted to keep us. It was necessary, 
therefore, to look for lodgings, which we found in a black little 
street near the Cathedral. And there we lived, much cramped, 
with our feet in the air and the horses saddled. The only 
person who still had a house was the Prefect, but I cared very 
little for the nephew of M. Regnier, Due de Massa, the former 
Minister of Justice. We saw no one apart from our friends the 
Abbes Clauzel and our neighbour, Mme. de Corey, who had 
come from Paris with her children to take refuge with her 
mother, Mme. Wallon. Her fowls were a great aid to us, for 
every morning they brought us the news of Paris, not like 
carrier-pigeons do, but lying in a basket with letters in their 



FLIGHT TO THE PRO VIN CE S 243 

stomachs, for at that time the post-office received hardly any 
correspondence and delivered still less. 

We had been camping in this way for about a fortnight, 
when one morning my wife espied a train of artillery on the 
Place de I'Hotel de Ville. It had arrived from Doullens, which 
had just been evacuated. Suddenly the idea occurred to her 
that Beauvais was going to be defended. A little M. de 
Corberon, a faithful Bonapartist and crazy blockhead, informed 
her that the Legislative Body had decreed that the French 
army was invincible, that the brave town of Beauvais would 
defend itself like a lion, bury itself under its ruins, and so on. 
As my wife had no wish to be defended, this display of bravery 
made her all the more eager to leave. Behold us, then, on the 
Rouen road ! After reaching Magny we took a cross-road in 
the direction of Mantes. A league from there we discovered, in 
a hollow to the right, a fine large old chateau^ flanked by a 
pretty lake and a superb forest. It was Mesnil, the domain of 
our dear Rosambos. As they were there, what could we do but 
embrace them in passing? We descended. Their children 
were sledging on the frozen lake, so my own took two sledges 
and joined in the game. We had luncheon and conversed, were 
pressed to remain, and accepted. The next day, finding our- 
selves very comfortable and our company being found agreeable, 
we agreed to divide the expenses of the household ; and there 
we were, once more housed. 

It is with infinite pleasure that I recall the six weeks of quiet 
happiness which, in the midst of the overthrow of France, we 
spent in that oasis, and which sealed our friendship with that 
excellent family for ever. I continued my son's education there, 
and my own work, as in Paris and at Bourneville. It was there 
that we received the news of the devastation of our estate. 
Mme. de Vinde, who had a farm in the neighbourhood, sent us 
a letter in which, with friendly circumspection but with all the 
imagination that her farmer had put into his account, she 
described this capture of Carthage. My flock of Merino sheep 
had been spitted, the park destroyed, and I do not know whether 
the house was not in cinders ! Here is what had really hap- 
pened. The Allies were moving towards Paris by way of 
Villers-Cotterets. They came across a fine chateau; the staff 



244 BARON DE FRENILLY 

stopped, was welcomed, dined there, slept there, and remained 
three days ; whilst the army camped in the neighbourhood. 
The chalk-written names on our room doors afterwards attested 
that we had had the honour of entertaining Field-Marshal 
Bliicher, Prince William of Prussia, and other leaders. So far 
so good, both for us and for them. But as soon as they left to 
continue their march things changed considerably. Each of the 
allied corps was followed and surrounded at a distance by a 
swarm of those Cossacks of whom the Russians quietly said to 
you : " Kill as many as you like ; we took them without count- 
ing, and we return them under the same conditions." A flock 
of these vultures arrived. At the announcement of their 
appearance the whole of the inhabitants of the Canton took 
refuge in my woods. My orders and lessons were without avail. 
Concierge, steward, gardener, and valets barricaded everything 
and fled as fast as their legs would carry them, leaving chateau, 
farm, poultry-yard, sheep, cows, horses, corn and fodder to the 
keeping of God and their bolts. At midnight ten Cossacks 
jumped over the park wall, reached the chateau^ found it de- 
serted, and broke open a window. There they were in my 
grand salon in the midst of mirrors, sculpture and paintings. 
Fifty others joined them, then two hundred, then two thousand. 
The sack of Troy then began, but not a Trojan perished. I 
must admit that, though they cost me rather dear, these savages 
were the most harmless fellows in the world. They would not 
have twisted the neck of a fowl or given a fillip to a child ; they 
did not do harm with science and reflection and for the pleasure 
of doing it ; they did not spoil or break things for the mere 
sake of spoiling or breaking them. I found my mirrors, sculp- 
ture and pictures intact. They had even a superstitious respect 
for the trees ; for when they lit large fires in my poultry-yard, 
which was planted with superb trees, they asked my gardener 
(everybody had returned on seeing that they would eat no one) 
where they could warm themselves without injuring the neigh- 
bouring trees. This respect of theirs saved my park, in which 
not a branch was broken. But, with all their virtues, they 
lacked one which is learnt only among civilised nations — a 
knowledge of what is yours and mine, and, like children, regarded 
everything that their hand could reach as belonging to them. 



I 



BOURNEVILLE PILLAGED 245 

In short, they were the greatest thieves in the world. Every 
wainscot where they suspected a hiding-place was torn down ; 
every cupboard, chest of drawers, desk, and drawer was broken 
open. But this would not have been done had the keys been 
left. We had not sufficiently esteemed these Cossacks. Finding 
a number of metal boxes that contained some title-deeds that I 
had neglected to bury, they imagined they must be full of gold 
and silver, so emptied them, littering the whole of the ground- 
floor with papers, but neither burning nor tearing one of them. 
And, marvellous to relate, I lost not a single document. Never- 
theless, my linen-room provided them with shirts ; the new 
hangings in my petit salon were converted into waistcoats, and 
my bolsters were transformed into trousers. In the case of the 
bolsters, they shook the feathers out of them, passed one leg 
into one, the other into another, fastened the whole together 
with pins, and there they were. As to the cattle, horses, and 
utensils of all sorts that they could not carry off, they estab- 
lished a fair on the two esplanades near the chateau. There it 
was that the real thieves — the army of Jews who followed these 
corps — came to perfect the pillaging (which would have been 
ten times less but for them) b buying a saucepan for two sous, 
a cow for twenty-four, and other things in proportion. It is 
true that among these northern Israelites were some of the Valois 
whom I afterwards forced to disgorge. Some of my cattle and 
almost the whole of my flock of sheep were thus recovered. 

I have since acquired the proof that a few connoisseurs frater- 
nised with these barbarians. My books and pictures were 
examined by men of taste, who carried off what they fancied, and 
among other things a magnificent French flora and charming 
picture of Danae by my mother, which I greatly prized. 

However, the denouement was rapidly approaching. On 
March 30 Paris capitulated, and its deputation heard these fine 
words come from the mouth of the man who had sacrificed 
Moscow to save his Empire : " On ne re9oit a capitulation 
qu'une ville prise et non une ville delivree," On the following 
day an innumerable army slowly, peaceably, passed along 
the boulevards, bordered by a crowd waving white flags 
and shouting — for the first time for twenty-two years — 
" Long live the King ! Long live the Bourbons ! " Old 



246 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Sacken pointed out his cavalry to the ladies and laughingly 
said to them : " Sacken's poor remains ! " In some such words 
had his division been described by the Government. Young 
Russian officers saluted them with the words : " Behold, 
Mesdames, the barbarians of the North."' Never had Paris 
looked more en fete. The reason was that it had not been con- 
quered but relieved. The Revolution, the Terror, the Directory, 
tyranny, and twenty-five years of torture seemed to pass away 
with the dawn of a fresh hope. 

The neighbourhood of Mantes began to lose its tranquillity. 
The debris of Bonaparte's army were retreating in confusion ; the 
roads and country-places were covered with a swarm of deserters ; 
the Allies were encamped around Paris. So, in company with 
our hosts, we left Mesnil and took the road to Dreux, leaving 
friends as well as enemies further behind. But there was no 
longer any means of avoiding the latter. We found that small 
town in a state of horrible confusion. Men, horses, vehicles, 
baggage, crowded the streets pellmell. Whilst strolling about 
in search of news which could no longer be found anywhere, we 
were informed on the quiet that a certain refractory club had 
just received a newspaper. Who would believe nowadays that a 
newspaper was once a rarity in France ? Off we rushed, to be 
received at the club on the strength of our rebel countenances 
and to listen to the public reading of the gazette. We learnt of 
the entry of the Allies into Paris, of the royalist movement in 
the capital, of the declaration of the Powers, of Comte d'Artois' 
arrival at Nancy, and of the charming words of that prince who 
has said so many : " Nothing is changed in France, except that 
I see one more Frenchman here." ^ 

Rosambo and I immediately left for Paris. What struck me 
whilst on the way was to see the roads covered with deserters. 
" Good," said I, " Bonaparte's army is off. Let it go and we will 
then form that of the King." This was, I believe, fairly good 
reasoning, for the only enemy to be then conquered in France 
was Bonaparte, or the Jacobin influence that had become 
imperial. But the five men who had just been provisionally 
appointed to look after the affairs of France did not think as I 

1 The words, as we know, were Beugnot's. Cf. his Mimoires, pp. 456-467. — 
A. 0. 



THE RUSSIANS IN PARIS 247 

did.-^ On reaching the capital I called upon Mme. de Damas, 
and the first person I met there was the Abbe de Montesquiou, 
one of the five temporary kings ; a man with a philosophical, 
systematic, speculative, and above all inconsistent mind, and 
who would have made, apart from religion, an excellent arguer in 
a church council. Full of what I had just seen and inferred, I 
congratulated him on our good fortune in seeing our enemies 
scatter of their own accord. " Monsieur," he replied, " it is a 
great misfortune. Would you have France appear disarmed 
before the Powers who occupy her ? " " Monsieur," I responded, 
" it matters very little to France's honour, which is intact, since 
she has taken Vienna, Berlin and Moscow, if she has fifty 
thousand guns against the Allies who have four hundred 
thousand, but it matters a good deal to her salvation if those 
fifty thousand rifles are not pointed against her King." I need 
hardly say that I wasted my breath. Orders were despatched 
in all directions to send the deserters back to their regiments, 
and thus did Bonaparte, on landing at Elba, receive the 
good news that his army was being kept together for his future 
use. 

The Emperor of Russia lived at the Elysee, for such delicacy 
did the kings whose palaces Bonaparte had occupied show, that 
not one of them would enter the Tuileries. Being but thirty to 
forty yards from the Elysee, we entertained a colonel of His 
Majesty's guard, Count Tschoubert, the politest man I have ever 
met. With mingled humour and urbanity, he refused to share 
my apartment, table and fodder, and, do what I could, perched 
himself in two rooms which I furnished for him on the third floor. 
He would accept only one stable for his horses and a coach- 
house, with a few trusses of straw for the Cossacks of the Guard 
— splendid men of Herculean stature, as gentle as children, 
and who became great favourites with my servants. As to 
sharing my table and allowing me to feed his men and horses, 
he would not hear of it. He took tea with us in the evening, 
and brought his own caravan tea ; and he accepted one invitation 
to dinner. But we had the greatest difficulty to get him to 

1 The five members of the Provisional Government were Talleyrand, the 
Due de Dalberg, Beurnonville, Jaucourt and the Abbe de Montesquiou. — 
A. C. 



248 BARON DE FRENILLY 

bring with him one or two of those young Russian officers who 
possess such good, modest, and elegant manners. 

Meanwhile, Monsieur, invested with the Lieutenancy-general 
of the kingdom, slowly advanced from Nancy to Paris. The 
formation of a royal guard greatly occupied the capital. Such 
devotion was shown that it was improvised in a week. In seven 
days seven hundred men belonging to the best families in France 
were accepted, equipped, clothed, and furnished with horses, all at 
their own expense, and were in fairly good exercise. The 
handsome Due de Mouchy sought after the command — to what 
do you not aspire when you are a Noailles ? But Comte 
Charles de Damas was preferred to him.^ As regards myself, 
military glory simply consisted in putting on again that coat of 
a national guardsman which I had taken off on August 10, 
1792. It was on Easter Sunday, April 10, that Monsieur 
entered Paris. He came by way of the Rue Saint Denis, 
escorted by his new guard. The number of windows and roofs 
were insufficient to hold the enthusiastic crowd that was shouting 
itself hoarse. Everything was adorned with flags and flowers, 
and every handerchief was waving. It was a touching spectacle, 
and one full of hope for the future had people only wished. I 
went with the crowd to see it at the Porte Saint Denis, where 
the prince stopped and saluted the figure of his ancestor. This 
act of homage was loudly applauded. As the procession turned 
on to the boulevards, I ran at full speed to Mme. de Vinde"'s 
to get a place on her terrace, where I could once more see it at 
my ease. Everybody there was of one heart and voice. 

Monsieur''s administration was fortunately of short duration. 
He had been through no apprenticeship as a ruler, and conse- 
quently fell into a sea of intrigues between the Bonapartists who 
had restored the Monarchy, the Jacobins who had saved France, 
the generals who had won a hundred battles for her, the Muni- 
cipal Counsellors who had issued a proclamation, the Senators 
who were ready to do anything, and others. There was no 
longer a man in France who did not merit rewards ; not one who 
deserved hanging. And what greatly increased the difficulties 
was the conduct of the Powers. They too easily forgot that the 
real enemy to be combated in France was not Bonaparte but 
1 Cf. Mme. de Chastenay's M^moires, vol. ii. p. 331. — A, C. 



LOUIS XIII. AT COMPIEGNE249 

his father and creator, the revolutionary spirit and Jacobinism, 
without which he would never have reigned, without which he 
would never have conquered Vienna, Berlin, or Moscow — that 
Jacobinism which only a long and firm absolutism could enchain 
until time, religion and education had neutralised its terrible 
germs. Had the Allies known this, they would have imposed 
but one condition on the new throne — despotism. They ima- 
gined that they had delivered Europe from Bonaparte's tyranny, 
but they had merely let the tiger loose. They were about to 
hand over France, safe and in good condition, to kings who 
would carefully feed this tiger until it was of a sufficient growth 
to devour her afresh. 

In the midst of this pickle, the King had left Hartwell. There 
then took place from Paris a sort of steeplechase to see who 
would be the first to pay him French homage on English soil. I 
believe that the winner was our new friend the Marquis de la 
Maisonfort, who, on seeing the Minister of the Interior's sister- 
in-law ^ in our salon every Wednesday, suddenly began to adore 
us, and who has since been made Ambassador to Florence for 
this chivalrous prank. 

From Calais, the Court of Hartwell proceeded to Compiegne. 
Thus, on arriving in Paris, the King came not from exile but 
from the chateau of his ancestors. Moreover, it was necessary 
for the courtiers to rejuvenate themselves there, to Frenchify 
themselves, to cast off their English exterior. The Britannic 
fashion prevailed with the ladies, who landed in little tight- 
fitting hats and short skimpy dresses, just at the very time that 
the puffs, toques and feathers of our Parisiennes extended almost 
to the heavens. 

For three days the toilet of the Duchesse d'Angouleme and 
her ladies was, therefore, an affair of State. Mile. Minette, 
Mile. Guerin, and two of our most elegant Parisiennes (I have 
forgotten their names, which were then mentioned with envy) 
posted off from Paris to Compiegne. Everybody was rushing 
there, full of the sincerest fidelity and most ardent enthusiasm — 
every one who held rank at the old or new Court, every one who 
wore stars, crosses or gallooned coats, every one who possessed 
titles or senatorships, every one who, during the past twenty 
1 Mme. de Fezensac, the Abbe de Montesquiou's sister-in-law. — A. C. 



250 BARON DE FRENILLY 

years, had bled Europe in the service of the Convention, the 
Directory and the Empire. Surrounded by these embroidered 
devotees, the least of whom would have shot him two years 
before, Louis XVIII., whose well-known legs supported a pro- 
minent stomach, said : " Gentlemen, I am happy to find myself 
in your midst. Happy and proud,"" he continued, "and if 
France were threatened you would again see me at your head." 
The contrast between the orator and his words provoked a smile, 
and this impromptu marriage with the Revolution made many 
people shrug their shoulders. But what more could he do ? It 
was necessary to lie. And perhaps he did not lie after all. We 
have had time to learn to our cost that he bore no rancour 
towards that Revolution which had given him a throne. His 
words v/ere pretty but studied, and in this they differed from 
those of his brother, who had less wit but more sincerity. The 
whole affection of France was centred in the Duchesse d'Angou- 
leme, and more than one regretted the Salic Law. The King 
knew this well. " If my crown were of roses," he said, " I would 
hand it to her, but it is of thorns, so I keep it." 

He left Compiegne on May 2, not for Paris but for Saint 
Ouen, for it was desired that there should be a grand entry into 
the capital on the following day. He dined and slept at the 
chateau of the Due de Gesvres. 

People slept little that night at Saint Ouen. It was neces- 
sary in that short space of time to give birth to a Charter. The 
King had been persuaded that he owed his subjects a Charter, 
that he could not reign without giving such a pledge, without 
reassuring France against the return of the old regime. Wearers 
of epaulettes, holders of senatorships, and purchasers of national 
property, were reassured against the very thing that the whole 
of France was awaiting. On the following morning, when passing 
through Paris, I found the streets strewn with this Saint Ouen 
declaration, a compendium of the new Charter. Farewell my 
Rennes Parliament, my Pays d'Etat, and the old French Con- 
stitution ! 

From the very beginning Louis XVIII. signed the dethrone- 
ment of Charles X . Two hours after this abdication he trium- 
phantly entered Paris by the Faubourg Saint Denis, We had 
taken some windows from which to see him pass. The procession 



LOUIS' ENTRY INTO PARIS 251 

was a long one, because it had been thought proper to add to 
the seven hundred mounted men of his provisional guard detach- 
ments of the few who remained of the various corps of the late 
imperial army. These platoons were distinguished both for 
their handsome appearance and their bad temper; their frowning 
faces said as plain as words that they would rather have followed 
an emperor on horseback through the streets of Vienna than 
trailed along the streets of Paris with a gouty king. Louis 
first appearance made, in the midst of my j oy, a painful impres- 
sion upon me. In a calash drawn by eight horses lolled, with a 
fatigued and sickly air, a stout man wearing a blue overcoat with 
gold epaulettes and an enormous three-cornered hat, and appa- 
rently insensible to the shouts of joy that filled the air as he 
passed. Compared to the King, the Duchesse d'Angouleme was 
much more the object of public enthusiasm ; but she looked stiff 
and unnatural in a new corset, and her naturally sad face recalled 
either the past or predicted the future. The Due d'Angouleme 
and the Due de Berry were still absent. Monsieur was on horse- 
back. The corUge proceeded straight to Notre-Dame and thence 
to the Tuileries by way of the Pont Neuf, where a masterpiece 
of decoration had been improvised — the equestrian statue of 
Henri IV., with Lally-TollendaPs inscription : Ludovico reduce 
Henricus redivivus?- I ran from the Faubourg Saint Denis to 
the terrace of the Tuileries. I was insatiable and indefatigable. 
I mingled with the people who, with a joy that was noisy and of 
good omen, crowded under the King's windows. Louis XVIII. 
appeared several times at the window and once led forward his 
niece, on whose head, which had never borne anything save a 
martyr's crown, he placed a wreath of flowers. Probably no one 
but myself was displeased by this little piece of acting. The 
illuminations in the evening were widespread, exceedingly bril- 
liant and spontaneous. Nobody received orders to rejoice. 
Many were the transparencies, decorations, inscriptions and 
emblems. One of our neighbours in the Rue des Saussayes 
arranged the portraits of Louis XIV., Henri IV., and the King 
in a medallion, with the inscription, " XIV. et IV. font XVIII." 
It was at this time that I composed a little epic poem in two 

1 Lally attributed it to himself, but Beugnot {Mimoires, p. 473) rightly 
claims it. " It is mine," he says, " mine alone." — A. 0. 



252 BARON DE FRENILLY 

cantos, entitled, Fin du po^me de la Revolution, celebrating the 
fall of Bonaparte and the return of the Bourbons. I cannot tell 
you how many hours the excellent M. Hue, Louis XIV.'s faith- 
ful valet de chambre at the Temple, and who since had never left 
Louis XVIIL, devoted to me when relating the King's life, 
down to its smallest details, and making me perfectly acquainted 
with Hartwell and its Court. 

Meanwhile, everything remained as it had been. The King 
took over France just as Bonaparte had left it. Apart from 
vigour and unity, everything was exactly the same. From the 
old regime he adopted only the four companies of musketeers, an 
elegant and brilliant body of troops who had not time to wear 
out their charming red uniforms, so quickly was their formation 
followed by monarchical radicalism with which Louis was already 
surrounded. Of the new ministers I can remember but five. The 
first, the Chancellor^ — to whom Mole promptly gave up the seals 
and Mme» Mole that entresol where she could not find room for 
her daughter — was M. Dambray, who had formerly been one of 
the two Advocates-General to the Parliament of Paris, a man of 
great knowledge, noble character and rare modesty. He had 
disappeared but without emigrating. By public assent he was 
dragged from his place of retirement. He carried out his duties 
without dignity or any fixed plans for the welfare of the State 
and magistracy. The Ministry of the Interior fell to the Abbe 
de Montesquiou,^ who immediately showed his capacity by 
choosing a M. Guizot, a minor Protestant litterateur, a semi- 
liberal and a complete philosopher, as Secretary-General. All 
honest men who had effaced themselves under Bonaparte then 
desired prefectures. Fev/, however, succeeded, for devotion and 
zeal were praised and applauded, but not employed. Mezy 
obtained the Prefecture of Lille ; Terray, that of Blois ; Tocque- 
ville, that of Angers ; and Bouthillier, that of Draguignan. 
Wishing for one myself, I called upon the Abbe, who said many 
amiable things to me. I was on intimate terms with his sister- 
in-law and the Damases, and this minister, whom everybody 

1 Charles Henri, Vicomte Dambray (1760-1829).— A. C. 

2 Fran9ois Xavier Marc Antoine, Due de Montesquiou-Fezensac (1756-1832), 
deputy of the clergy of Paris at the Constituent Assembly, Minister of the 
Interior (1814-1815), peer (1815), Member of the French Academy (1816), 
count (1819), duke (1821).— A. C. 



COMTE BEUGNOT 253 

governed, pretended not to be influenced by women. Perhaps, 
too, he recollected our meeting at Mme. de Damas'. 

The Ministry of War was given to the Due de Feltre. An 
old worthy sailor, the Vicomte du Bouchage, belonging to the 
old nobility of the Dauphine, got the Ministry of Marine.* 
Beugnot was made Prefect of Police.^ Why ? Was it because 
he had followed all parties with equal zeal and left them with 
equal timeliness ? He, was, however, endowed with great acute- 
ness and considerable wit. He alone had a good general idea of 
the King's position and what was necessary. Several years later, 
in a corner of Villele's salon, he said to me : "I am not a devout 
person, and yet, had they but believed me, Louis XVIII. would 
have been reigning to-day like Louis XIV. All that was 
necessary, in accepting Bonaparte's inheritance, was to add to it 
the Lazarites and the Jesuits." He was not allowed to retain 
his post for long. He had made a few attempts in favour of 
religion or rather religious decorum. One of them was the 
Sunday closing of shops. People obeyed, for everybody obeyed 
then. But the innovation was made the subject of songs and 
caricatures. As the decree authorised chemists to open, one 
caricature represented two hungry foreigners who, finding all the 
shops closed and mistaking a chemist's for a cqf4, asked for 
refreshments and were brought a clyster. 

Talleyrand became Minister of Foreign Affairs. He had 
dictated Bonaparte's wishes to the Powers and haggled with 
them over his ruin ; he had entertained them at his Hotel de 
rinfantado. In short, he had been Talleyrand, the Harlequin, 
who, on climbing from the street to the entresol, jumped to the 
first-floor when the ladder had been removed from under him. 

Another inevitable minister, but one who was only beginning 
to be so, was Pasquier. Under Bonaparte he had displayed 
great skill in keeping on friendly terms with good society. He 

1 FranQois Joseph de Gratet, Vicomte du Bouchage (1749-1821), peer in 
1817.— A. C. 

2 Jacques Claude, Comte Beugnot (1761-1835), one of the best officials and 
wittiest men of his day, and the author of some very interesting Mdmoires 
•which were published in 1866. Let me point out, however, that in 1814 he 
was placed in charge, on April 2, of the Ministry of the Interior, on May 13, 
of the general management of the police, and on December 3, of the Ministry 
of Marine. — A. C. 



254 BARON DE FRENILLY 

was entrusted with the general management of the road-surveying 
department, one of four small ministries. His good friend Mole 
got nothing. He loved Bonaparte, whereas Pasquier loved 
nothing — a great advantage to him. 

Fontanes remained Grand Master of the University.^ He 
was another of those men who bound upwards when they fall. 

Other important posts were given to fustian royalists — they 
were generally of that material ! — or to rascals who shouted 
" Long live the King " louder than we did. 

Before separating from the allied kings, Louis XVIH. 
obtained the unconditional liberation of the innumerable 
prisoners whom Bonaparte had surrendered to them. They were 
his old soldiers, for the Beresina and Leipzig had swallowed up 
all the young ones. They were asked for too soon, and too soon 
returned. But — quos vultpedere Jupiter dementat. Was not the 
imperial army being increased ? I was clear-sighted and here is 
proof of it. When I went to Bourne ville to make an inventory 
of my losses and put things in order, I opened none of my 
hiding-places and decided to postpone repairs until some future 
time. 

1 The writer is mistaken. Fontanes did not retain his post, owing to its 
suppression. But he was given the title of Marquis, and was made a member 
of the House of Peers and Privy Council, — A. 0. 



CHAPTER XI 
1815 

Journey in Touraine — Napoleon's return — Departure of Louis XVIII. 
— The Segurs — Nantes and General Foy — Rennes — Saint-Servan — 
Arrest — Release — Embarkation — A storm — Jersey — London — The 
"emigres" — Stoddart and Jerningham — Waterloo — Louis XVIII., 
Talleyrand and Foucbe — The Duo de Richelieu — Barbe-Marbois — 
Vaublanc — The " undiscoverable " Chamber — " Considerations sur 
une annee de I'histoire de France " — Return to Bourneville and 
reforms. 

When I had concluded my business at Bourneville, it was 
necessary to think seriously of my aiFairs in Touraine, whence 
came neither letters nor money, though the first payments were 
already overdue.^ Nobody there possessed or merited my con- 
fidence. There was nothing else to be done, therefore, but to 
set off, and to see and act for myself. I started on December 9, 
slept at Amboise on the 10th, at Tours on the 11th, and on the 
14th arrived at Loches, at the hotel of a M. Nicolin, the former 
cook to an archbishop, and who provided strangers that happened 
to pass that way with an excellent table. 

I had the good fortune to find in Loches, which was the town 
par excellence for rogues, advocates and attorneys, an honest man 
named Michellet, the conservator of mortgages. He allowed 
me to consult all his registers, and, thanks to him and in spite 
of the subterfuges of those with whom I had to deal, I succeeded 
in my operations. After three months' work, I, found that I 
was the owner of property in Touraine and Berry to the 
value of about 250,000 francs, and that about 100,000 francs 
was to fall due. 

1 Towards the end of the Empire, Fr^ailly had sold a portion of his Tou- 
raine properties. — A. C. 

255 



256 BARON DE FRENILLY 

One evening in March, when, having completed everything, 
I was thinking of returning home, the honest Michellet entered 
my room. He came to inform me that Bonaparte had landed 
in the Gulf of Juan. Then I heard of La Bedoyere's treachery 
and of the arrival of the " man of destiny" at Grenoble. From 
that time I decided he was at the Tuileries, so I fastened my 
trunks and set off for Paris the same evening — March 15 — at 
full speed. My object was to place my family in safety and to 
follow the King's lead. Now, whilst I was hastening on my 
iourney, Bonaparte was entering Lyons, and on the 14th my 
wife had set off in her berlin, with the two children, a femme de 
chambre, and a servant, for Loches, via Orle'ans. On the evening 
of the next day she reached Cormery, five leagues from Tours 
and Loches. There she was told that no horses were to be had. 
" Madame," explained the postmaster, " a landowner of the 
district took the last." " What is his name ? " asked my wife. 
" M. de Frenilly." " And where was he going ? " " To Paris." 
She had missed me at Tours by half an hour. At last, by force 
of money and entreaties, she found horses, once more reached 
Tours, made certain that I had taken the road to Chartres, and 
by dawn was at Vendome. Fortunately I had rested a few hours 
there. Just as I was leaving and passing over the bridge, a 
postillion overtook me at full 'gallop, with shouts of " Stop ! 
Stop ! " I thought that Bonaparte was on my heels. " Mon- 
sieur," said the man, " there's a lady asking for you at the post- 
house." " A lady ? " " Yes, sir, a lady in a berlin with two 
children." " Heavens ! " I exclaimed, " it must be my wife." 
And so I returned to embrace my family, partly delighted and 
partly angry, but above all much embarrassed, for my wife 
would not for the world return either to Paris or to Bourneville. 
The only place that promised her security was Loches. Behold 
us, then, once more en route, berlin, calash, courier, and eight 
post-horses cutting a dash much against our will. On arriving 
at Tours we stopped a couple of days to see from which way the 
wind was blowing. This agreeable town was full of ardour for 
the Bourbons, and on receiving the news of Bonaparte's landing 
the fury of the people had been general. 

We re-entered Loches on March 20. On the same day 
Louis XVni. left France. What did he do in the midst of 



RETURN OF NAPOLEON 257 

the general consternation of Paris ? He acted. A great crowd 
saw him in the morning proceeding in pomp with Monsieur to 
the Chamber of Deputies ; he was seen to enter and throw him- 
self into his brother's arms, with the solemn promise to remain 
in Paris and be buried under the ruins of the monarchy ; and on 
the following day the population learnt that he had fled in the 
night by the road to Flanders ! Henry IV. would have pre- 
ferred that to the Vendee and would probably have found him- 
self better off there. 

We know what disorder accompanied this flight across a 
country that was staunchly royalist but covered with garrisons, 
and where the tricolour flag floated already ; by what treachery 
Mortier drove the King from Lille, which was arming for him ; 
and how the honest Due d'Orleans handed to that rebel a 
million francs which were to constitute the King's only resources 
when in exile. This million in gold and silver travelled by short 
stages in a huge waggon under the protection of M. Hue, who 
,hit upon the idea, so as to guarantee it against attack, of 
covering it with a black mantle, on the ground that it contained 
the ashes of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette which the King 
was taking away in order to preserve them from profanation. 

At dusk on March 21 a small post-chaise noiselessly entered 
Paris and stopped in front of the steps of the Pavilion de 
THorloge. It was Bonaparte, entering like a thief in the night, 
in the same way as he had returned from the Beresina, in the 
same manner as he was to return from Waterloo three months 
later. All the " violets " of France awaited him, for his return 
had been predicted for the season of violets. For a long time 
past violette had been the password among his friends. Await- 
ing the natural flowers, artificial ones were worn, these and the 
use of violet scent being equivalent to saying : " I conspire," and 
most fashionable in the Chaussee d'Antin. When this was 
mentioned at the Court people laughed ; whilst at police head- 
quarters they shrugged their shoulders. There was dancing and 
acting on the Isle of Elba. " You mean to tell me," people 
said, "that they are conspiring? Nonsense!" There was 
neither a frigate to sink them en route, nor a company of gen- 
darmes to shoot them on landing. Predestined family ! " La 
petite Violette " returned then to the Tuileries at seven o'clock 



258 BARON DE FRENILLY 

in the evening and found all the ladies of his Court on the steps. 
It must be said, however, that those who were born for the Court 
of Versailles, although some of them had since shone at that of 
Marie Louise, were absent. Marie Louise, who had been their 
excuse, was in Vienna. Only one, I believe, was mentioned as 
being present — the Comtesse de Segur, daughter-in-law of a 
Marshal of France and of a Minister of War of Louis XIV., and 
wife of Bonaparte'^s ambassador in St. Petersburg and Berlin. 
This exception made everybody laugh, but astonished only 
those who did not know this family, which had been saved by 
Bonaparte from the deepest poverty. 

The first thing that Bonaparte did, after proscribing the 
royal family and even its ministers, ungrateful fellow that he 
was ! was first of all to proclaim himself a friend of the universe, 
desirous of living quietly in his little kingdom, and then to re- 
demand, diplomatically, his wife and the King of Rome. But 
his wife had by that time found consolation. 

As to the friends to whom he stretched out so caressing a 
hand, they were at the Congress of Vienna with Talleyrand, 
who preferred serving France and Europe to being shot by 
Bonaparte. We know with what unanimity it was decided to 
undertake a universal war, well paid by Pitt. 

We remained but four days at Loches. My wife having 
relatives at Nantes and a good old friend of her father, 
Mme. de La Hussaudiere, at Angers, and these towns being 
surrounded by the noble Vendee, towards which we were so 
sympathetic, I decided to leave my family there. As for 
myself, I determined to cross Brittany and reach Flanders by 
way of England. 

We set out early in the morning of March 25. On reaching 
Tours I left my calash, sent the driver and my servant to 
Bourneville, and the femme de chambre to Paris. The same 
evening we arrived at Angers. Good Mme. de La Hussaudiere 
consenting to take in my wife and daughter, I obtained a pass- 
port bearing the name of Fauveau, merchant. Everything was 
already beginning to change in Angers. Tocqueville was pack- 
ing up his traps.^ The departmental guard, which had been 
enrolled for the King's service, was hanging up its rifles and 
1 Father of the author of L'Anoien rigime et la Revolution, — A, 0. 



GENERAL FOY 259 

uniforms, and a company of " federates '' was being formed for 
the service of Bonaparte. 

Leaving half my money with my wife, and getting her to sew 
the other half into a belt, my son and I, at dawn on March 27, 
set off in a hired cabriolet for Nantes. When half-way there we 
met Barante. The windows of his Prefecture had been broken 
on the previous day, and he was on his way with his wife to his 
little Auvergne estate, where he intended to remain snug and 
quiet and see which way the wind was blowing. His friend 
Pasquier, to escape from Bonaparte's first favours, was off to the 
waters of Mont-Dore to reestablish his health.^ 

Nantes was under the command of a little major-general 
named Foy, a man with the face of a barber's assistant and the 
bearing of a stage hero, absolutely unknown under the Empire, 
but a zealous Jacobin and expressly chosen to command one of 
the most important places in France. This little scoundrel, 
unable to render himself illustrious by arms, had just distin- 
guished himself by an act of treachery. On March 25, accom- 
panied by handsome Barante, he had handed the departmental 
guard of Nantes a flag adorned with fleurs-de-lis, but on the 
26th had slipped his Cross of Saint Louis and his oath into his 
pocket and made the garrison take back its tricolour flag and 
eagles. On arriving at the Hotel de France I was given a room 
next to that occupied by this wretched man, whom I did not 
then know, but whom I have since known too well. 

The theatre was only a few yards from the Hotel de France, 
and the performance was not yet over, so we went to see it. An 
impromptu play, celebrating the Corsican's return, was being 
produced. The boxes were empty, but the pit was full of sol- 
diers and intriguers, who shouted, " Long live the Emperor ! '' 
until they were hoarse. 

On the following day we called upon good Bernier de Maligny 
and his charming wife Victorine, my wife's first cousin. 
Then, leaving my son with their children, we went off" to find 

1 Pasquier was ordered by Napoleon to move away from Paris to a distance 
of forty leagues (Mimoires, vol. ii. p. 168). He first of all went to the Chateau 
de Coulans, in the Maine, where his brother was living ; then, on May 2, 
returned to Paris. He intended to go to Mont-Dore, but Fouche advised him 
to remain. He was at the OhS.teau du Marais, where he had met Barante and 
Mole, when he beard of Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo. — A. C, 



260 BAKON DE FRENILLY 

paper on London and friends at Saint-Malo, where I began to 
fear that it would be difficult to embark. 

Monneron, another of my wife''s cousins, and whom I have 
since made a Director of Customs, served me more intrepidly 
than Maligny. Through him I got to know that honest madcap 
De Bruc, father of the pretty Duchesse de Brissac, who declared 
his royalism to everybody and gave me letters to people in 
Saint-Malo, notably to my future colleague Du Fougeray,^ 
whose name was soon to be the cause of much travelling on my 
part. I also saw, in regard to money matters, Receiver-General 
Lauriston, brother of a marshal of the Empire, and since an 
excellent friend of mine. 

Eager to leave Nantes, we got into the Saint-Malo diligence 
on the 29th. We slept at Rennes, which impressed me as being 
a noble old town. This severity of aspect was apparent in all 
the small towns which we passed between Nantes and Saint- 
Malo. 

On arriving at Saint-Pierre, a few leagues from Saint-Malo, 
we left the stage-coach. In my pocket was a map of the route 
to Du Fougeray's country house, and whilst on our journey I 
had learnt that embarkation would not be easy. Hiring a 
cabriolet, we came to our destination, but only to find that Du 
Fougeray was not at home. In his place was his brother-in- 
law, who, strongly suspected himself, I believe, saw with little 
pleasure the arrival of two strangers who came to him across 
country with a tale about fishing-boats and a nocturnal em- 
barkment. Either because he suspected us of being spies of 
Bonaparte's already installed Sub-Prefect, or because he took us 
for former Chouans who were fleeing the country, he hastened 
to get rid of us by passing us on to his brother-in-law, then in 
Saint-Malo, and who, he said, would assist us in every possible 
way. We returned, therefore, to Saint-Pierre for the night, 
and the next morning, March 31, drove in the same cabriolet to 
the best inn in Saint-Servan. 

Now, what Bonaparte then feared more than all Europe was 
the Vendee, and what his agents desired most ardently was to 
be the first to prove their zeal. On stepping out of the carriage, 

1 Jean Baptiste Laurent Gamier du Fougeray (1768-1843), a great friend of 
Corbi^re, was deputy for ttie lUe-et-Vilaine from 1815 to 1828. — A. C. 



THE AUTHOR'S ARREST 261 

two gendarmes asked me for my passport. I handed it to them 
and waited two hours for its return. At the end of that 
time it was ceremoniously brought back to me by twelve 
gendarmes and a non-commissioned officer, who politely in- 
formed me that I was too well turned out a man to be a 
merchant, that my passport had been issued at Angers, a 
suspected town, and that I was hiding my high rank and illus- 
trious birth in vain. Very politely also they examined my 
luggage, pockets and pocket-book. Naturally they found De 
Bruc's letter to Du Fougeray, recommending him to assist me 
in obtaining supplies of sugar and coffee. " Sugar ! " exclaimed 
the gendarme. " It's as clear as day. That stands for ' men.' 
Coffee ! That, too, we know. It means ' rifles.' " There is 
no denying that the man was in the right. The words were 
clumsy stupidities and when written by such a madcap as De 
Bruc to such a Breton as Du Fougeray, both of whom were 
known to everybody except myself and described in even the 
smallest villages of Brittany, greatly open to suspicion. I know 
nothing in the world so bad as being in a false position. 
" Parbleu, gentlemen," said I to the gendarmes, "there's no 
need to go any further. I'm no more a merchant or a Chouan 
than you are. I've never sold either sugar or men, and I'm 
crossing Brittany for the first time in my life, on my way to 
London on business. They forced me to call myself a merchant 
under the impression that my embarkation would be facilitated. 
There you have the whole truth, which you may believe or not, 
as you think fit." 

In brief, we took a boat and under my guard of honour I was 
brought before the Sub-Prefect, a sort of trooper with the 
manners and graces of an ex-corporal of the guards. The 
examination was not a long one. There was no disputing over 
my quality, but regarding my name, which might have been a 
rather bad recommendation, I kept to that of the passport. 
The outcome was that he ordered me to be sent back to Nantes 
to be imprisoned, or shot, or provided with a new passport, as 
circumstances dictated. Behold us, then, travelling by short 
stages, with the non-commissioned officer seated by my side and 
two gendarmes at each side of the carriage doors. During the 
journey my companion tried by all sorts of Jesuitical means to 



262 BARON DE FRENILLY 

make me confess my high position. He also conversed with 
Olivier, and on one occasion whispered to me : " Monsieur, 
this boy of yours is a very virtuous child ! " And, as a matter 
of fact, my eleven-year-old son never once lost his presence of 
mind. 

On reaching Rennes, we found a new Prefect in office — that 
rascal Mechin who, under Bonaparte, had fallen from Aix-la- 
Chapelle to Laon on account of his proved dissipation, who 
then, under the Abbe de Montesquiou, became Prefect of Caen, 
and who was now at Rennes thanks to his old master.^ After 
a conversation, he relieved me of two-thirds of my escort and 
made the non-commissioned officer take off his uniform. We 
then took the post-chaise and on the following day were once 
more in Nantes. There I found a new Prefect, I believe an 
unfrocked monk, who was frightened of everybody, and from 
whom my friends obtained without difficulty a proper passport 
for London. Embracing my honest gendarme^ who had shown 
us the most cordial attention, we set off" back to Rennes, where 
I again saw Mechin, who commissioned me to carry to Saint- 
Malo the happy news that Marseilles had surrendered to 
Bonaparte. 

Fortunately I had changed my letters of recommendation 
on this second visit to Saint-Malo and on arriving there went 
straight to the house of a very honest and witty man the Abbe 
du Fossey, an ex-canon who occupied a pretty little house at 
Saint-Servan, and who, aided by his sister and nieces, did 
everything he could to receive me well. He was acquainted 
with the whole of Jersey, which I desired merely to cross, but 
where recommendations might be useful to me. I remained 
with him until the time for the departure of the packet, the 
only vessel exempt from an embargo. 

On April 7 we embarked, in a fairly high wind, on a 
wretched little vessel commanded by a still more wretched 
captain. This foreshadowed adventures, which, as time proved, 
were not lacking. Next to the approaches of Jersey, which are 
perhaps the most dangerous in the world, the most difficult are 
undoubtedly those of Saint-Malo, bristling as they are with 

1 Alexandre Edme, Baron Mechin (1772-1849), deputy for the Aisne from 
1819 to 1831.— A. C. 



A STORM AT SEA 263 

pointed rocks half under water. In order to reach the open 
sea more quickly, our captain determined to pass between the 
big Rocher de Cezembre and a smaller rock, which are separated 
merely by a narrow channel. Unfavourable though the wind 
was to this manoeuvre, he persisted in undertaking it — until the 
moment when, having missed the channel, we were about to be 
dashed on the Cezembre. When not more than ten yards away 
a turn of the helm made us skirt the rock, in the midst of 
furious breakers and rocks that were just covered by water. 
In less than a minute we touched three times. I thought that 
all was over. The women fainted; the men undressed them- 
selves ; and the whole crew began to shout " A nous ! A nous ! '" 
at the top of their voices to some distant fishing-boats. But 
the wind that had refused to allow us to pass through the 
channel saved us by keeping us away from the terrible rock. 
There now remained but one question : what was the extent of 
our damages and were we going to sink or not ? All hands 
were got to the pumps, which, happily, were found to draw 
more water than entered. Although the wiser plan would have 
been to return to port, we continued our journey. The wind 
now became higher and higher and more contrary. Towards 
evening we perceived through the fog the famous Minquiers. a 
chain of rocks much venerated by the seamen of those parts and 
which had to be doubled in order to reach Jersey. But our 
captain, who was somewhat put out by the morning's mishap, 
dared not undertake it. So we had to lie to all night, and 
that night I recollect as though it were yesterday, so long and 
fatiguing was it. My son and I spent it on deck, clinging to 
the bulwark netting, buffeted by the wind, drenched to the 
skin by rain and waves, but at any rate escaping from sea- 
sickness in an infected cabin. Our ship was more ill-favoured ; 
the wind carried away her bowsprit and a small portion of her 
prow. The uproar was terrible, we were in pitch darkness, and 
every one recommenced his Nunc dimittis. But nothing more 
happened. When it was morning the Minquiers were no longer 
visible, for we had dragged our anchors three to four leagues 
astern. The rain then stopped but was replaced by a fog so 
thick that you could not see twenty feet in front of the vessel. 
We fired many pistol-shots, to the great regret of the captain, 



264 BARON DE FRENILLY 

who preferred to run his ship into danger rather than bear the 
expense of a coast pilot. At last some boats arrived and, half 
an hour afterwards, we had the pleasure of climbing on all fours 
on to the rocks of Fort Elizabeth. A quarter of an hour's 
walk brought us to the best inn in Saint Heliers. After a 
wash, I rushed to the post-office, to find there were no letters ; 
to the messageries, to find my luggage had not yet arrived ; 
and then to the houses of friends, for, thanks to the Abbe du 
Fossey, I possessed two whom I yet knew only by name. One 
was a M. GifFard, the principal banker, merchant and smuggler 
of Jersey, an honest, pious, austere Presbyterian who had 
brought up his children in the fear of God and with a horror 
of custom-house officers. He occupied a very pretty house that 
was quite English, for Jersey belongs to England and the 
general cleanliness there formed a curious contrast with the 
immemorial filthiness of Brittany. Behind the house was a 
beautiful large garden with a greenhouse full of vines. But 
M. Giffard's best possession was a son of twenty-five, an 
excellent young man who was a perfect blessing to me during 
the long stay I was obliged to make in Saint Heliers. My 
other friend was a M. Poingdextre who overwhelmed me with 
engaging attentions. He and his stout little wife spoke the 
purest dialect of Lower Normandy. 

At last, on May 20, our trunks arrived, and on May 23 we 
embarked on the packet for Southampton. My wife, from 
whom I had received but two letters since my emigration, had 
in the riieantime made a stay with her relatives at Nantes, and 
from there, believing that I was in Jersey, had come on to 
Saint-Malo, so as to be nearer to me. On the very day that I 
was sailing for England she was arriving under the hospitable 
roof of the Abbe du Fossey, with whom she and our daughter, 
to their great satisfaction, boarded for two months and a half. 

I landed at Southampton on May 23 and on the 24th 
reached London, without any other resources, in hand or to 
come, than my belt of gold and bills to the amount of thirty 
thousand francs. I say " in hand or to come "" because, in the 
uncertainty as to what God, Bonaparte, Pitt and the Allies 
would do with France, I had thoroughly made up my mind to 
live until further orders in London, Ghent, or elsewhere on a 



THE "EMIGRES" IN LONDON265 

capital of forty thousand francs, that is on an income of two 
thousand francs, with a wife and two children. Thus, with 
what exemplary and sordid economy did we set about living ! 
After a few days, a lengthy conversation which I had with the 
stout Marquis de La Chastre, Louis XVIII.'s Ambassador in 
London, completely dissipated my zeal and devotion. I saw 
that the only thanks the Breton noblemen who were about to 
offer their services to the King would receive would be a cold 
reception. 

The heaviest part of my new budget was that relating to our 
apartment, for my eyes have ever cost me dearer than my 
stomach. For a guinea a week I found a pretty ground floor 
apartment of two rooms, very comfortably furnished, in a house 
in the fine but out-of-the-way High Street, opposite Northum- 
berland Street and in the district of Manchester Square. This 
included attendance, furnished by my good and gentle hostess 
Mrs. Manseel. We had luncheon in our little drawing-room 
looking on to the street. It was provided by a neighbouring 
pork butcher, a milkman, and a baker, assisted by Mrs. Man- 
seel's tea-kettle. A neighbouring French low-class restaurant- 
keeper, who for many years had been the Very of the eraigres of 
Manchester Square, furnished us with a dinner a la carte in the 
midst of a very noble, very numerous and very poor company. 
For a large number of emigres had remained in London on 
seeing the turn that events took in 1814 and many others had 
returned on seeing those of 1815. In the afternoon — the 
morning was devoted to Olivier's lessons and my own work — we 
took our dessert in the form of a visit to those magnificent fruit- 
shops with which London abounds. " Let us go and see some 
pictures by Van Spaendonck," I used to say to him. We 
returned home with satisfied imaginations and empty stomachs, 
but provided with a substantial foundation of patience. The 
remainder of the day was devoted to visiting all the sights 
of London. 

On arriving in London I knew no one, but it was not long 
before I had more acquaintances than I wanted. The old 
district of the emigres where I had taken up my quarters 
swarmed with people who were eager to make or renew friend- 
ships. The first person I met was the old and amiable Due de 



266 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Serent, the friend of the Comte d'Artois and tutor to his two 
sons. He had preserved the Comte d'Artois' early corre- 
spondence with his bosom friend the Bailli de Crussol. I have 
had it in my hands. It was worthy of the soul and style of 
Henry IV., and showed the noble character of Charles X. in a 
more favourable light than one could ever have believed. The 
duke had followed the royal family to Memel and England ; he 
had returned to Paris with it; but during the Hundred Days, 
instead of going to Ghent with Louis XVIII., who hated him, 
and whose heart and new friends he himself did not esteem, he 
had retired to London with his second daughter, the amiable 
and piquant Duchesse de Narbonne, whilst the eldest, the 
Duchesse Etienne de Damas acted at Bordeaux as lady of 
honour to the Duchesse d'Angouleme.^ 

Another personage whom I quickly came across and found 
unchanged, unless he was a little more steeped in sophistry, was 
the Abbe de Montesquiou under whom France had perished. 
He reproached himself with only one mistake during his year of 
office : that of not having given greater power to the Jacobins, 
who, as the only real force in France, ought, he contended, to 
have been enrolled in the service of the throne. " The minister 
who will be indispensable to Louis XVIII. when he is restored 
to the throne," he said to me, " is Talleyrand." I do not know 
if he did not go as far as including Fouche, and heaven only 
knows if his advice has been well followed. 

Every evening there was a select gathering of emigres at the 
house of Mme. d'Outremont, who lived near me, and whom I had 
known in her youth at M. de Saint-Waasfs. I there met the 
modest and excellent Bishop of Carcassonne, Malcors, brother 
of our amiable Vicomtesse de Vintimille, and a M. Desbassyns, 
accompanied by his wife and daughter, whom I mention because 
he was the brother-in law of Villele and a Mile, de Mourgues, a 
little goddess whom formerly they had wished me to marry. 

I made two or three other chance acquaintances. One was 

1 The Due and Duchesse d'Angouleme were at Bordeaux when Napoleon 
returned from Elba. Whilst the duke, who shortly afterwards surrendered 
at La Palud, was on his way to Nlmes, the duchess, who had remained behind, 
armed the National Guards and the volunteers. But the soldiers whom she 
went to see in the barracks received her with shouts of " Long live the 
Emperor ! " so she embarked at Pauillac on an English vessel. — A. C. 



THE JERNINGHAM FAMILY 267 

that of a Comte d'Orfeuille, a nobleman of Poitiers, whom I had 
met twenty-five years before at his estate near Epanvilliers ; 
another was that of a Bourneville neighbour whom I had never 
seen before, the Marquis de Thuisy. I met the latter in company 
with his brother, Commander de Thuisy, and dined with them 
at their Richmond home. 

We left Bonaparte pulling off his boots at the Tuileries and 
sending ambassadors with olive branches to all the Cabinets of 
Europe, On April 22 he had issued his famous addition to the 
Charter, and on the 30th had reconvened a Legislative Body to 
which his friends, his enemies, and the enemies of the Bourbons 
crowded pellmelJ. But when the novelty had worn off, many 
of his old servants began to lament, and many of those who 
served him, on seeing France sad and silent and Europe in full 

progress, used the words of Cambronne : " Nous sommes f ." 

Our cousin. General Saint- Alphonse, believed his little wife, 
Annette de Mackau, and withdrew to his estates. But there 
was a bolder man than he, Mathieu Mole. He was tired of being 
in disgrace. So Bonaparte placed him on the list of members 
for his Council of State. Mole's family went down on its knees 
to get him to refuse the appointment and leave immediately for 
Ghent. Mme. de Mortefontaine, who deserves honour for the 
act, brought him on the following day twenty thousand francs 
and a passport. But he hesitated, remained, and appeared on 
Bonaparte's Council. As he had numerous enemies all over the 
world, this affair made a great noise. The Times published an 
angry article against him. I read it. Now, had it been merely 
unpleasant I should have said nothing ; but it was harsh, partly 
erroneous and partly unjust. So I wrote a cold and impartial re- 
futation. Thus arose my friendship with two English gentlemen, 
Stoddartand Edward J erningham. The former was the manager 
of the Times ; the latter wrote for that journal, and I had met 

his uncle, Sir Jerningham, at Mme. de La Briche's. The 

Jerninghams belonged to a family of Catholic peers, who were 
excluded from the House of Lords because of their refusal to 
comply with the Test Act. They continued the traditions of 
the Toryism of the old school, had a slight hereditary sympathy 
for the Stuarts, and a marked predilection for the cause of the 
French Crown. George, the elder of the Knight's nephews, lived 



268 BARON DE FRENILLY 

on his estates ; the younger, Edward, was a London lawyer living 
with his mother, the good and amiable Lady Jerningham. It 
was to Edward that I addressed myself, and by telling him of my 
recollection of his uncle. He came to see me ; my refutation 
appeared in the Times ; the Journal des Dehats translated it in 
Paris, and, what is the best of it, M. Mole never for a moment 
dreamed that this defence which enraptured him was the work 
of a twenty-year-old friend with whose heart and pen he was 
well acquainted ; the only friend, certainly, that he then 
possessed in England. This circumstance made me intimate 
with the Jerninghams and consequently with Stoddart, a true 
Englishman, very awkward in appearance, stiff and haughty, but 
with much ready wit and good sense, and a Tory to the 
finger-tips.^ 

In the midst of all this came the great news of the Battle of 
Waterloo, which enabled us to see for ourselves what the wild 
enthusiasm of the English people is like when satisfied hatred 
accompanies victorious pride. The spontaneous illuminations 
lasted three days, and were of unprecedented profusion and 
magnificence, Wellington''s name, arms, and portrait appeared 
in fire on every wall. A fortnight later there were exhibited all 
the spoils that the victors had been able to collect, and this 
shilling show made the fortune of its organiser. 

Whilst London was ablaze with glory, Bonaparte returned to 
the Elysee. In twenty-four hours a battle had destroyed his 
three-months-old crown.. Having made his last cast of the dice, 
he abdicated. A Government commission was appointed, with 
the boldest, most artful, and most defamed rascal of France — 
Fouche — at its head. Its first act was to order Bonaparte to 
leave France immediately. He asked for nothing better, for he 
had no desire to wait at Malmaison for the arrival of English or 
German agents. But two difficulties remained : one to cross his 
empire without being massacred, the other, to find a place of 
retreat. 

1 Sir John Stoddart (1773-1856), educated at Oxford, barrister, manager 
of the Times (1812-1816), then of the New Times (1817-1826), first presi- 
dent of the Court of the Vice-Admiralty of Malta (1816-1840). Sir 

Jerningham, the uncle of George and Edward, was doubtless the poet and 
dramatist, Edward Jerningham (1727-1812), who was educated at Douai 
and Paris, — A. C, 



FLIGHT OF NAPOLEON 269 

He left Malmaison incognito on June 29, and on July 3, still 
without being known, reached Rochefort. He counted on finding 
there an American ship to take him to New York, and, had he 
succeeded, Heaven alone knows what an explosion of joy his name 
would have aroused in the United States, that country of foolish 
enthusiasm where Senates have since assembled to deify Fanny 
Essler and make a hero of Lafayette. He would have become a 
Quaker, as he had become a Mussulman, until the day came 
when his followers in France had formed a conspiracy, and he 
had found a boat to take him across the ocean. It was at this 
time that Mme. de Stael said : " I had a desire to write the Life 
of Napoleon, but now I shall write the Adventures of Bona- 
parte " ; and for once she spoke the truth, she who had so many 
times craved for a glance from him. 

The tragedy was over ; the after-piece had begun ; the 
Sbriganis, the Tartuffes, the Crispins, and the Kings of Cocagne 
were to appear on the stage of history. 

Paris capitulated for a second time, and a deputation of legisla- 
tive buffoons patriotically went down on their knees to the Powers 
to beg for a king after their own stamp, of their own blood — 
any monarch save one with the inglorious blood of Henri IV. 
and Louis XIV. The Allies entered the capital. Lafayette 
and a few other burlesque heroes of the Parliament of the 
Hundred Days played a Roman farce on the steps of their 
doubly-locked Capitol and were unable to die in their curule 
chairs. 

What was Louis XVIII. doing in the meanwhile ? 

Let me say as little as possible about his sad reign at Ghent, 
which began disgracefully, was basely exploited, and ended 
deplorably. We should only learn about councils directed by 
Chateaubriands, Lacretelles, and even such men as Guizot, and 
see all these political puppets worked by the strings of the regi- 
cide Fouche. 

But to reascend, under the auspices of a Fouche, a throne 
that had been handed back by all the Kings of Europe was not 
enough. On entering Cambrai the king had issued a proclama- 
tion that held out some hope to decent people, but the same 
evening there arrived from the Vienna Congress the Mephisto- 
pheles of Europe — Talleyrand, and on the following day appeared 



270 BARON DE FRENILLY 

the Cateau-Cambresis proclamation, a shameful recantation in 
which the King no longer pardoned but asked for pardon, in 
which he no longer punished traitors, and disgraced his enemies, 
but called them to high posts of State, thus realising the extra- 
vagant dreams that the Abbe de Montesquiou had unfolded 
before me. 

From that moment my mind was made up. Unpacking my 
trunk, which was ready for departure, I decided, in a fit of 
indignation and scorn, to remain in London. 

The King was at Arnouville. Fouche was presented to him. 
He appeared — this ex-monk, this former cutter-off of heads — 
not as a penitent but as a bold " kingmaker," chosen by the 
Duke of Wellington, and proclaimed as indispensable by unani- 
mous Paris — for such was then the extravagant desire of Parisians. 
Then Louis negotiated and haggled with the Allies, who were 
fascinated by his Prime Minister. The conferences were held at 
Neuilly, and VitroUes, a sort of Proven9al Talleyrand, was the 
negotiator. 

Finally, Fouche's first attempt at being dictator was to close 
Paris to the King for two days, on the ground that the people, 
who were impatient to see him, were in revolt, and to let him in 
by the back entrance — the Clichy gate. As a matter of form, 
the new ministry ordered a few officials to be dismissed and even 
exiled. It was then that Carnot wrote to Fouche : " Monster, 
where do you want me to go ? " and that Fouche replied : 
'* Idiot, where you like."^ A few peerages were bestowed and a 
few posts given to royalists. Rosambo was made a peer, but 
at the same time as Mole, who, disgraced in 1814 for having 
forgotten his name, was honoured in 1815 for having prostituted 
it. Terray was given Blois; Bouthillier, Strasburg; Mezy, 
Lille ; and Tocqueville, Beauvais. 

Confidence existed nowhere. But everywhere there was a 
display of party spirit, a desire to fight and conquer. The 
elections soon proved it, despite the intrigues of Fouche, Tal- 
leyrand, and others. The " undiscoverable " Chamber was the 
outcome — a thunderbolt for the ministerial band. Had they 

t Cf. in Madelin's FoucM (vol. ii. pp. 402-488), the chapters entitled : "La 
commission de gouvernement " and " Le ministre du roi tres Chretien," — 
A. C. 



THE DUG D'OTRANTE 271 

waited for this Chamber to meet, it would have formed a new 
ministry. This was in accord with English law and its oM^n, and 
the monarchy would then have fallen, for the first time since 
Louis XIV., into monarchical hands. Louis XVIII. saw the 
danger; the monarchy might have thwarted the monarch. Freed 
by the unanimous voice of France from Fouche's yoke, the King 
hastened to sacrifice this scapegoat, who, instead of being sent 
to the Place de la Greve, went to Dresden as his ambassador — 
Due d'Otrante, millionaire, and adored husband of the beautiful 
but crazy Mile, de Castellane.-"^ A new ministry was formed, 
exempt from crimes, so that the future Chamber would tolerate 
it, and without either honour or energy, so that this king and 
Anglomaniac could reign as he liked. The handsome Due de 
Richelieu, a great lord who had been nourished on the false 
principles of the eighteenth century, became Minister of Foreign 
Affairs. Pasquier was given the Seals — the price of the vigorous 
royalism which had made him drink the Mont-Dore waters 
during the Hundred Days.' Decazes was put at the head of the 
Police. An unknown temporiser in 1814, he suddenly threw 
himself in 1815 into the royalist movement. Introduced at 
Arnouville, he pleased the King, and behold him now a minister. 
Let him pass ; we shall meet him but too often on our path. I 
no longer remember what Barbe-Marbois became.^ The Due 
de Feltre and Du Bouchage were respectively made Ministers of 
War and Marine. I have kept Vaublanc's name until the last 
— Vaublanc, the upright man of the ministry, and on whom 
there was soon concentrated the hatred or rather the fury of 
every one who had served the Revolution, the Directory, or the 

1 The wretch stopped there but a short time. The Court of Saxony would 
not receive him and hardly an inn would take him in. On his becoming 
Prime Minister, some of my London friends took the trouble to extract his 
life from the Moniteur, They sent this colossal and authentic record of 
shameful actions to me in Paris, and I had it printed. A person whose 
name I have never been able to discover bought two hundred and fifty copies 
and sent them to Dresden. The unfrocked monk, regicide and king- 
maker, disappeared before being stoned. I believe that he died at Triest. — F. 

2 See note p. 259. Pasquier wished to, although he did not, drink the Mont- 
Dore waters during the Hundred Days. — A. C. 

3 Barbe-Marbois was appointed Minister of Justice in the place of Pas- 
quier, who held that portfolio in the preceding cabinet, but refused to 
retain it. — A. C. 



272 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Empire. Vaublanc, a Deputy to the Legislative Assembly in 
1791, had defended the throne, honour and good sense, with 
such energy that only a lengthy emigration had saved him from 
the scaffold. On returning home, with no other belongings than 
an honourable reputation, he had become Prefect of Metz, and 
had acquired a name for being a skilful and honest adminis- 
trator. This led to his appointment as Minister of the Interior, 
and in this position this fine man had the simplicity to display 
his opinions of 1791, his sincere royalism, his hatred of revolu- 
tionaries, and to practise that which others merely preached. 
But Louis XVIII. soon tired of his integrity, which went further 
than he wished.^ 

Such was this ministry, which did more harm than good, and 
which carried with it the opinions and above all the inclinations 
of its master. 

The Chamber, resembling the one of 1660, that of the restora- 
tion of Charles II., was determined to raise the old monarchy 
from its ruins. Charles had had the good sense to see the advan- 
tage of this situation, but Louis XVIII. saw in the members of 
the new Chamber merely men who wished to do more and better 
than himself. Whereas Charles II. showed prudent abnegation, 
Louis XVIII. displayed foolish resistance, and he was only too 
powerfully seconded, on the one hand by the opinions and 
interests of the ministry he had chosen, and on the other by 
the respect of a Chamber which was too devoted to the Crown 
to dare, whatever the cost might be, to be plus royaliste que 
le roi. 

I was still in London, cooling down my anger at having seen 
Talleyrand at Cambrai and Fouche at the head of the ministry, 
and I should probably have died of ennui or indignation in this 
exile had I not had my son's education and my literary work to 
continue. I had then completed an opuscle entitled Cojisidera- 
tions sur une annee de Fhistoire de France — perhaps the best 
work I have written. It made sufficient noise to prevent my 
election to the French Academy, whose doors had been opened 
to me by the death of Ducis. Lacretelle aine^ Parsevai-Grand- 
maison, Andrieux and others who had agreed to give me their 

1 See, in reference to this, what Vaublanc says at the conclusion of 
chapter xxviii. of his Mdmoires. — A. C. 



THE AUTHOR'S RETURN 273 

votes turned their backs on me. De Seze was appointed in my 
place. However, if this pamphlet prevented me from sleeping 
in one of the forty Jauteuils, it was, on the other hand, the 
beginning of my political career. 

On September 29, after an absence of two months, I turned 
my face towards Paris and arrived on October 28. My wife had 
returned since September 9. My father-in-law had remained 
there all along. After two years of invasion and ruin, it was 
necessary to look to our affairs. We soon made up our minds. 
To bury ourselves alive at Bourneville was now out of the 
question. We had the education of our two children to com- 
plete, and many friends or acquaintances who must not be allowed 
to forget us. We limited ourselves to our customary visits to 
Paris, living economically, and to our usual sojourns in the 
country, but without receiving many people ; and at the same 
time determined to do without the luxuries of life in order to 
devote the whole of our attention to the restoration of our 
fortune. 

The lease of my residence in the Faubourg Saint-Honore was 
drawing to an end. Instead of renewing it, we transferred it to 
the Rosambos, and, without leaving our beloved quarter, rented 
for 1000 francs, a charming apartment in the Champ-Elysees, 
in a fine house whose ground-floor was occupied by Mezy. We 
were in occupation by October 15 — a little high up in the air, 
perhaps, but with an incomparable view. On October 8 I had 
left for Bourneville with Olivier. 

During my absence a spirit of revolt had arisen. My prime 
minister, Defrance, was a rascal, a coward and a blunderer. My 
head-gardener, who was rather a quarrelsome fellow, had come 
to see me in Paris to spy out the state of my fortune, and had 
spread the alarm by relating that he had had to mount three 
stories instead of one. The concierge was neutral. The head- 
keeper was fairly faithful, but a bit of a rascal and rather stupid. 
The chief conspirator, however, was Gobert, my head shepherd, 
who was greatly looked up to in the district on account of his medal 
and brother, an ex-general of the Empire. Louis, my honest 
second keeper, was the sole member of my staff who was staunchly 
faithful, 80 he was the only one whom I took into consultation. 
It was necessary to make an example. The day following my 



274 BARON DE FRENILLY 

arrival, Gobert, after reigning for thirty-five years over my 
sheep, was paid and sent about his business. The district was 
stupefied by this coup d'etat ; everybody became dumb when they 
saw me with my purse in one hand and dismissals in the other. 
Nobody wanted any money. I had to demand their accounts. 
Everything was settled, and three days after my arrival, silence 
and my reputation for solvency reigned at Bourneville. 

But though order was reestablished outside, it was far from 
reigning inside, and my poor chateau, which had been inhabited 
by the Cossacks, would have borne a terrible resemblance to 
Carthage had not the mirrors, woodwork and marbles fortunately 
escaped in the midst of the general pillage. 



CHAPTER XII 
1816 

Blacas — Decazes — The Amnesty Bill — The Due and Duchesse 
d'Angouleme — The Comte d'Artois — Bruges and Vitroiles — Maxima 
de Choiseul — Norvins' Conversion — Despinoy — Lain6 — The Due de 
Narbonne — Marriage of the Due de Berry — Jerningham and Stoddart 
once more — Dissolution of the " undiscoverable " Chamber — The 
new Chamber — Famine — The Soeiete des Bonnes ]&tudes. 

At last, on February 24, after two months and a half hard 
work, I returned to Paris, leaving all my hiding-places at Boume- 
ville intact, such was my confidence in the future of France. 

Decazes had made rapid progress in Louis XVIII. 's heart — if, 
indeed, he had one. Like James II., this king had a mania for 
bringing up his favourites and showing them great platonic 
friendship. It is not permissible to doubt that it was purely 
platonic, since all passion with him took that form, and that that 
old and unblushing sorceress, formerly a young and seductive 
fairy, Mme. de Baldi, would have been condemned by him to 
virtue if thirty others had not consoled her.-^ But if the honour 
of his favourites was saved, they were not spared the fatigue and 
ennui of their semi-romantic, semi-commonplace intimacy with 
a mind that was barren, at once weak and imperious, minute and 
academic — ^a mind that was in error regarding great things and 
scholastic in the case of small ones. D'Avaray had died at his 
task.^ He was succeeded by the handsome Comte de Blacas, 
whom Louis XVIII., on being recalled to the throne, made a duke 

1 In regard to Mme. de Baldi, see Castellane's Memoires, vol. i. p. 389, and 
Charles Nauroy's Les Derniers Bourbons, 1883, pp. 140-149. — A. C. 

2 D'Avaray (1759-1811) was the Decazes of Louis XVIII. 's youth. See the 
first two volumes of Forneron's Histoire g^nirale des ^migrds, 1884, particularly 
vol. i. pp. 234 and 276, and vol. ii. p. 72. — A. C. 

275 



276 BARON DE FR^NILLY 

and minister. A victim of the public clamour, he fell from the 
ministry to the Embassy at Rome, where he became, as it were, 
the ambassador of Louis XIV., the Due de Crequy in person. 
He was the same at the Naples Embassy. The role suited him 
perfectly and in filling it his lofty personality had greatly 
enhanced the prestige of the Crown of France.^ 

From the noble intimacy of the Provencal Duke, Louis XVIII. 
fell, then, to the vulgar intimacy of the Gascon usher. The Due 
de Blacas, had, in truth, been a little too noble ; whereas Decazes 
stood in exactly the same relation to Louis XVIII. as the Due 
de L^uzun did to Louis XIV. Before the Restoration, I had 
sometimes met this upstart at the Vindes', where he was kindly 
received, and his vulgar, peremptory effrontery had greatly 
displeased me. His manner succeeded better with the King, 
who made him in quick succession his courtier, creature, child, 
friend and master. This " Due de Garonne " had a confederate 
in the person of a rather nice little sister, named Mme. Prince- 
teau,'^ wife of an individual of his district. She got to Court by 
a back staircase, with the best and most honourable intentions, of 
course, for she was a good and honest little woman. And yet .? 
Louis XIV. was no more coquettish with Mme. de La Valliere 
than Louis XVIII. was with this young lady of Libourne. She 
had some little ones whom he looked after like a grandfather, 
employing his royal leism^e in making up packets of sweets for 
them. He had thus installed in a corner of the Tuileries a little 
farmyard family that was not one of the smallest cares of his 
Empire. 

This Empire began, then, to be unreservedly governed by 
Decazes, a middle-class. Liberal despot who was confronted by a 
free, noble and mona,rchical Chamber. Judge of the union that 
reigned between them, and of the colours in which this " undis- 
coverable " Chamber, which they would rather not have found, 
was painted at the Chateau. The truest and most useful servants 
of the King, having become the object of the favourite's jealousy 
or hatred, were one by one repelled by the master''s gradually 

1 Pierre Louis Jean Casimir, Due de Blacas d'Aulps (1771-1839). — A. C. 

2 Chateaubriand [Mimoires d'Outrc Tomhe, vol. iv. p. 142) also considers her 
"an agreeable, modest, and excellent person." Cf. Charles Nauroy's Les 
Derniers Bourbons, pp. 149-152, — A. C. 



ROYAL LIBERALISM 277 

increasing coldness. The name "ultra" was invented, and 
they cried out to us : " Do not be more royalist than the 
King ! ^' 

As soon as you had passed through the Carrousel gate, to be 
a royalist was to think as the King thought, to do and say what 
he wished. One day, the Due d'Estissac,^ the commanding 
officer at Beauvais, said to me : " Monsieur, if the King wrote to 
me to burn Beauvais, I should burn it. That is what I call 
being a royalist." We simple people who were royalists without 
making such subtle distinctions as this, for a long time imagined 
that we had only the King''s manner and words against us, that 
he was paying this tribute to circumstances, but that his heart 
and conscience were secretly on our side. At last, however, we 
were forced to recognise that he was an out and out Liberal 
and an open enemy of the aristocracy. What an apple of discord 
this was in Paris and all over France ! Our amiable and 
intimate society, formerly so united, broke up. Harmony was 
replaced by party-spirit, and all who had reigned under 
Bonaparte considered themselves the incontestable masters 
of France. 

The brand that lit the fire was the shameful Amnesty 
Bill, which, instead of pardoning the revolutionaries and the 
authors of the terrible catastrophe of the Hundred Days, 
restored to them favour and ascendency. Trembling with indig- 
nation, the Chamber passed it, for the King's wishes were still 
obeyed. 

The Due d''Angouleme''s incapacity, aided by his religious 
respect for the King, naturally placed him under the influence 
of this policy. His wife, the daughter of Louis XVI., who had 
made us almost hate the Salic Law, sacrificed her conscience to 
her duties as a wife, and hid her affections by piety. The Due 
de Berry, who had a more elevated mind and greater energy than 
his brother, apparently humbled himself out of respect for the 
throne. The Comte d'Artois was the only one of the family 
who allowed the royalists to penetrate to the bottom of his mind, 
and who dared to combine with his veneration for his brother 
the King a contempt for those who held the reins of government. 

1 Fran5ois de La Rochefoucauld, Due d'Estissac (1765-1848). Cf. the 
Miimirti of General Comte de Saint-Chamans, p. 337. — A. 0. 



278 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Two men predominated at his Court. One was the Chevalier 
de Bruges,! a tall and rather handsome man, unaffable in appear- 
ance, but whose loyalty and devotion were never doubted. The 
other, the Marquis de Vitrolles,^ was in every sense of the word 
an intriguer. Incessantly active, enterprising, amiable and witty, 
he had in 1814 won the prince's affection by travelling from 
Provence to Nancy, in the midst of a thousand real or imaginary 
perils, which he related very agreeably, to offer him his services. 
Through Monsieur's influence he had become secretary to the 
Council, and in the first year he almost succeeded in restoring 
this position to what it had been in the hands of Maret. He 
was the CounciPs dragoman, its universal reporter, its indispen- 
sable interpreter when communicating with the King, who had 
also taken a liking to him. But he did not long remain in 
favour ; for this Proven9al was a Gascon, and as proud as any 
upstart of his rapid rise in the world. Rosambo, who had been 
his college companion, asked me to go and see him in connection 
with Monsieur's affairs. The manner in which the invitation 
was held out was somewhat informal, but Monsieur's name 
excused anything. So I went to see Vitrolles and found the 
man whom I have described. He was enthusiastic over my 
Considerations and declared that I was indispensable to his 
master. It was proposed to establish a periodical for the defence 
of monarchical interests, and my political opinions, aided by my 
frank, mordant and glowing style, had appeared to be exactly 
suited for the enterprise. As the born enemy of newspapers 
and the liberty of the press, I had little fancy for fighting for 
the good cause with the weapon of destruction. The idea 
pleased me still less when it was proposed that I should have as 
a collaborator the man who was then extolled the most but 
whom I esteemed the least — Fievee, Bonaparte's correspondent, 
later Blacas', and at the time of which I am writing the favourite 
of society and the lion of the legitimist party. Vitrolles in- 
vited me to dine with this man, La Bourdonnaye and a few other 

1 The Comte d'Artois made him a lieutenant-general and his aide-de- 
camp. — A. C. 

2 Vitrolles (1774-1854), the author of MSmoires, is fairly well known. He 
was deputy for the Basses-Alpes from 1815 to 1816, minister and member of 
the Privy Council in 1815, major-general in 1828, and peer in 1830. Cf. 
Pasquier's M6moires, vol. iii. p. 378. — A. C. 



NORVINS' CONVERSION 279 

(deputies whose names were coming to the front ; but I quietly 
eluded the proposed collaboration. 

During my stay at Bourne ville, society lost one of the best and 
most amiable men it still had left — the Due de Rohan-Chabot, 
a model of elegance and politeness, who had remained in the 
midst of the wild desert into which France had been transformed 
by the Revolution and the Empire.^ 

It was in this same winter of 1816 that the authentic will of 
Marie Antoinette was found at the house of the banished 
regicide Courtois, the former member of the Convention. Too 
noble a document for M. Decazes to have it read in public, they 
contented themselves with having it lithographed, and every one 
could obtain a copy. 

About this time Tocqueville left the Prefecture of Beauvais for 
that of Metz, and was succeeded, I believe, by Maxime de Choiseul, 
a young man of excellent morals and opinions, and the author of 
a valuable work.^ 

But I was about to forget Norvins' conversion. He had been 
sent to Strasburg under the supervision and tutelage of our 
excellent friend Bouthillier. In his ennui and despair he became 
extremely religious. People spoke of nothing else but his call, 
and came to the conclusion that he was going to become a 
Carthusian monk. Fancy Norvins taking a vow never to speak 
another word ! But cloisters had become rare, and whilst he 
was looking for one, Carbonarism had gradually revived under 
the protection of the Decazes Ministry. Whether it was that 
his call was a mistaken one or that he decided the farce had gone 
far enough, I cannot say, but, at any rate, the Carthusian 
returned to Paris, preferred the order of the Jacobins to that of 
St. Bruno, made the acquaintance of Thiebault, a former general 
of Bonaparte, married his daughter ^ and became what he has 
remained. 

1 Alexandre Louis Auguste, Due de Eohan-Ohabot (1761-1816), colonel 
before the Revolution, major-general (1795), lieutenant-general (1815), married 
in 1785 Anne Louise Madeleine Elisabeth de Montmorency, who died in 1828. 
— A. C. 

2 Maxime de Choiseul d'Aillecourt (1782-1854), member of the Academy of 
Inscriptions (1817) and author of a work published in 1809 entitled Be 
V influence des Croisades sur Vitat des peuples de V Europe. — A. C. 

3 Laure, born in 1800 of Thiebault's first marriage, that with Miss Hamilton, 
She died in December 1877. — A. C. 



280 BARON DE FRENILLY 

General Despinoy, who had the command of Paris, was impa- 
tiently supported by the ministry. Taking the Restoration 
seriously, he unmercifully began to purge the capital and the 
troops of his division of all the remaining fanatics of the 
Republic and the Empire. For this he was called a tiger and 
sent into the provinces.^ 

A more triumphant operation of the camarilla was the 
dismissal of Vaublanc. This other monster, who was also a 
genuine supporter of the monarchy, was replaced by Laine, that 
Bordeaux advocate who, when a member of the second Chamber 
in 1813, suddenly became illustrious through having the audacity 
to utter a few words of peace. ^ This excess of liberty aroused 
Bonaparte's anger, and it was then that it was rumoured, though 
I never believed the story, that Mole had advised the Emperor 
to have Laine shot. So the new Chamber thought it could do 
nothing better than make the Bordeaux deputy its president. 
He presided exceedingly well, spoke little, but when the oppor- 
tunity offered gave a few proofs of true eloquence. He was, 
however, by birth and in taste a sort of Spartan, a severe and 
imperious doctrinaire, who saw despotism wherever there was a 
sceptre and courtiers wherever there were royalists. Such was 
the man who obtained the Ministry of the Interior, then the 
most important administration because of the elections. This 
was the first step towards the dissolution of the " undiscoverable " 
Chamber, which he already cordially hated. 

If my memory serves me well, it was about this time that 
Decazes replaced the Due de Blacas at Naples by the Due de 
Narbonne, that is, the handsomest, most stately, and most 
royalist of Frenchmen, a time ambassador if ever there were one, 
by the most weasel-faced and timidest little man in the world. 

The marriage of the Due de Berry caused a temporary cessa- 
tion of hostilities in the political world. The elder branch of 
the Bourbons, like the Valois family, threatened to die out. 
Monsieur, bound by pious promises and tender recollections, 
refused to remarry ; the Angouleme couple had never given 

1 Cf. A. Chnquet's La Jeunesse de Na/poUon, vol. iii. p. 240. — A. C. 

2 Joseph Louis Joachim, Vicomte Laine (1767-1835), deputy for the 
Gironde (1818-1822), peer of France in 1822, member of the French Academy. 
—A. C. 



THE DUG DE BERRY 281 

promise of issue : so that the whole future of the family depended 
upon the Due de Berry, who had amply proved that he would 
not disappoint it. A Russian princess was offered — beautiful, 
young, and, being tall, capable of compensating for the dwarfish 
generation that two little Savoyards had presented to France. 
But she was of the Greek religion, and France, which no longer 
had a religion, was politically Catholic. It was necessary, 
therefore, to choose an Italian dwarf for the French one, at the 
risk of a diminutive progeny ; and in May the poor little 
Duchesse de Berry arrived at Fontainebleau, where the Court 
was waiting to receive her. On the afternoon of June 16, the 
King, with the young couple by his side, triumphantly entered 
Paris by the Faubourg Saint- Antoine, which since the second 
Restoration had been rechristened the " Faubourg Royal." From 
the house of my old friend Montbreton, on the Place Vendome, 
I saw them pass. The show was a poor one, but the enthusiasm 
was great. On the following day the marriage was celebrated 
in a fairly magnificent style at Notre-Dame. In the two pro- 
cessions there was nothing either elegant, or rich, or gallant, 
nothing indicating peace, nothing characteristic of old France 
and its ancient royalty ; merely uniforms, bayonets and sabres. 
Bonaparte had made these the symbol of the monarchy, and, 
unable to imitate him, they contented themselves with a parody. 
After two years of stress and exile, we at last, although 
rather tardily, returned to the beloved routine of former days 
by making our entry, on June 22 — but without either uniforms 
or bayonets — into Bourneville, which had also great need of a 
master, and which fortunately found one who was firmer than 
he who reigned over France. We were much liked there, as 
indeed, to a certain extent, we deserved to be, and our return 
was the signal for general rejoicing. But in three weeks' time 
I had to go back to Paris for ten days. Edward Jerningham 
had announced his arrival from London, and I wished to return 
the hospitality I had received in England. So I showed him 
Paris, and as he wished to meet well-known people introduced 
him to Bonald, Mol^, and Vitrolles.^ At the end of a week he 
left, without desiring to visit Bourneville. Alas ! I was never 
to see him again. 

1 Chateaubriand was absent from Paris. — F. 



282 BARON DE FRENILLY 

He was soon replaced by my other English friend, Stoddart, 
who, although rather cold and stiff, belonged to that race 
which, after a month's acquaintanceship, calls you " my dearest 
friend."" I had not been back at Bourneville a month before I 
received a letter from him, dated Beauvais, where he was staying 
with one of his " dearest friends,"" young Comte de Saint- 
Mauris, a lieutenant in the lifeguards. He announced his 
intention of coming to Bourneville and arrived on August 19, 
the object of his visit being nothing less than the repose of 
Europe. Since my departure from London, he had matured a 
plan for the publication of a monthly Franco-British magazine, 
intended to bring about the fusion of the interests, tastes, and 
principles of France and England. He had obtained the 
support of several illustrious people in England, and had come 
to France hoping to do the same. This enterprise — the fore- 
runner of the Conservateur — was, by reason of the, until then, 
unusual collaboration of the best writers of each nation, new 
and piquant. At the same time it was rather well contrived, 
for Stoddart, having at his disposal the Times, the most highly 
accredited and strongest Tory organ in London, was certain to 
obtain great publicity for the periodical, which was to be printed 
simultaneously in English and French. I willingly agreed to 
participate. My first flight had been fairly high, and I was not 
displeased that my name, trumpeted in the Times, should main- 
tain the same height in England in company with the names of 
Bonald, Chateaubriand, and others. We drew up together the 
order and subjects of the principal articles of the Correspondant. 
I myself undertook to write several of them ; I believe that even 
the introduction was from my pen. But at the end of all this 
work I believe that this great peacemaker between France and 
England was unable to live more than two or three years. On 
leaving Stoddart on August 23, I promised to dine on Sep- 
tember 1 with his French collaborators, who were to assemble 
at the Hotel de Saint-Mauris, in the Rue de Seine, which his 
" dearest friend " of Beauvais had lent him. Who should I find 
there but the Due Mathieu de Montmorency, the Due Etienne 
de Damas and the Due de Fitz-James, in addition to Humbert 
de Sesmaisons, the two Rouges, Bertier de Sauvigny, and 
others ! He knew, entertained, and had already enrolled the 



THE CHAMBER DISSOLVED 283 

whole of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. I should not like to 
swear that these people formed the stuff out of which a good 
article could be made, but they bore fine names, and at any rate 
were excellent to begin with. 

Four days after this diimer the throne took the first step 
towards the abyss to which it was to descend during fourteen 
years. The foolish and ungrateful decree of September 5, dis- 
solving the " undiscoverable " Chamber, appeared. Vengeance 
on the part of Decazes and foolishness on that of Richelieu, to 
the dishonour of the King and the loss of his cause ! Chateau- 
briand was then printing his Monarchie selon la Charte, which 
would have been better entitled La Charte selon la raonarcMey a 
mediocre and often erroneous work that has lived on its author's 
reputation. On hearing of the coup d? ttat^ he added to his 
book an angry post-scriptum, for, his opinions having passed 
through as many phases as his life, he was then an aristocrat. 
This addition cost him his positions as minister of State and 
Ambassador to Sweden. He had spent the proceeds of his 
Genie du christianisme and his Martyrs, and was overwhelmed 
in debt. The step he took would have been heroic had he but 
upheld it. 

As for myself, this dissolution, which mowed down an embryo 
France, also destroyed the work on Assemhlees representatives, 
which I had just finished and was keeping for publication at the 
opening of the winter session. Everything that it contained 
became not only useless but unseasonable. It appeared, however, 
and remained unknown. It was under these inauspicious con- 
ditions that I put up for parliament. I had many friends and 
not a few partisans, and everything then was ruled by party 
spirit, nothing was done in a lukewarm manner. I was brought 
forward at Beauvais, Dijon, Blois, Tours, and Nantes. My 
correspondence shows what efforts were made on my behalf, 
especially by the Damases. 

Parliament assembled on November 3, after a furious struggle 
between the monarchists and the ministry, a struggle in which 
the King, who continued to do what harm he could to the 
monarchy, took part. I have had in my possession a four-page 
autograph letter which he wrote to Comte de Damas, who pre- 
sided over the Dijon elections, for the purpose of preventing the 



284 BARON DE FRENILLY 

nomination of Brenet, a doctor of that town who had signalised 
himself in the " undiscoverable " Chamber by his monarchical 
zeal and his hatred of the Republic and Bonapartism. 

The new Chamber ought to have consisted of two hundred 
and fifty-seven members, but only two hundred and thirty-foiu' 
were present, because, owing to party ruptures similar to the 
one at Beauvais, twenty-one elections were undecided and two 
Corsican deputies had not yet arrived. I estimated that there 
were one hundred monarchists, including eighty-six who had 
belonged to the previous Chamber, one hundred and twelve 
ministerialists, and twenty-four neutrals. Through the efforts 
of the ministry we had lost fifty seats, thus giving it a sort of 
majority, but such a small one that in England it would have 
been the signal for resignation. 

Canning was then in Paris, and Vitrolles, who swore only by 
me, invited me to dine with him. The guests included Bonald, 
Chateaubriand, the Due Mathieu de Montmorency, Prince 
Louis de La Tremoille, Talaru, Sesmaisons, and La Bourdon- 
naye, the fine flower of rebeldom. Canning, who was a man of 
rather high stature, awkward and heavy, with a round bald 
head, open manner and intelligent eyes, was not, nor wished to 
be on our level. He could not see, he said, that France 
possessed a royalist party. But this was simply because he 
thought he was in England, where such a party would have 
burst forth, and did not realise he was in France, where we were 
royalists precisely because we did not take up an uncompromis- 
ing attitude, and because the majority of us, still fettered by an 
old monarchical faith and our recent enthusiasm for the King, 
sacrificed the display of our principles out of respect or love for 
the man who was consummating their ruin. 

But the dissolution of the " undiscoverable " Chamber had 
caused a terrible noise in Europe. There was a general outcry, 
and we had as allies — England, where Toryism was at its zenith ; 
Spain, roused against recollections of the Revolution and Bona- 
parte ; Prussia, Austria, and a large party in Russia, which saw 
with the same eye as we did the decazist intrigues and perfidies 
of its ambassador Pozzo di Borgo. We then conceived the idea 
of putting on paper a clear statement of the opinion of the 
Powers in regard to the true state of the kingdom. This was to 



ORLEANS FAMILY RECALLED285 

be at once a justification of the resignation with which we were 
everywhere reproached, and an appeal of the monarchy against 
the judgment which the decree of September 5 had given against 
it. The work was discussed in committee at Vitrolles', and I 
was entrusted with its preparation. The " secret note," about 
which there was so much talk, was the result. After it had been 
read and adopted, on November 12, I confided it to the care of 
Vitrolles who, without saying a word, substituted his own text 
for mine. So it was his work, and not mine as people then 
thought, that was scattered over Europe, and over which 
Decazes and company made such a great noise. However, I 
was not displeased at this little act of treason by which my 
tender Provencal friend had got me out of a scrape.^ 

This fatal year 1816 was completed by the recall of the 
Orleans family, which since 1814 had remained in its vipers' 
nest at Twickenham. The King who detested and feared them, 
had constantly refused to allow them to return. But Decazes 
could not refuse anything to the stock of Philippe Egalite, nor 
the King, Decazes' requests, so Louis Philippe returned from 
England as his father had done and with the same object in 
view. 

Thus closed the year 1816. All my friends — conspirators 
always have plenty — pressed me to spend the winter in Paris. 
Had I been a deputy I should have done so. But I replied to 
them after the manner of a resigned husband who sacrifices his 
wishes to his wife's judgment, and on November 20 escaped from 
the political storm that had surrounded me for two months 
and a half, to return to my sheep and my son. To the 
two scourges which afflicted France — the dissolution and the 
return of the Orleans family — Heaven had added a third, famine. 
It was horrible and widespread. The roads were crowded with 
beggars, who had left their desolated provinces, and my wife, as 
much for the sake of prudence as charity, was instructed to 
refuse none of them. 

It was also in this year that there was formed the Society des 
Bonnes Etudes, an excellent institution to which every one in 

1 Regarding this '* secret note," which represented France as a revolutionary 
volcano that threatened to set all Europe ablaze, see Pasquier's M4moires, vol 
iv. p. 251.— A.C. 



286 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Paris who had money or honourable feelings contributed. I 
took two shares of one thousand francs each. This society exer- 
cised a sort of guardianship over all French boys from fifteen to 
twenty years of age whose education was placed in its hands. 
For a small annual sum it found them lodgings with honest 
people ; watched over them and later protected them. Lessons 
and lectures were given in a large house, where the pupils could 
also obtain amusement and, I believe, meals at a low price. The 
work of the society was carried out with a religious and 
monarchical object. How fortunate it would have been had 
every town in France had a similar institution ! How fortunate 
it would have been if everywhere there had been done for pupils 
of five to fifteen years what we did in Paris for those of fifteen 
to twenty ! But the Government tolerated good and did evil. 
When we at last succeeded in getting a royalist ministry, the 
Societe des Bonnes Etudes became a nursery for magistrates and 
administrators.^ 

1 As regards the Societe des Bonnes Etudes, consult G. de Grandmaison's 
La Congregation, pp. 215-219, and 368-370. — A.C. 



CHAPTER XIII 

1817 

Eobert le Diable — Athalie — Cousin Thesigny — Moreau de la Sarthe — 
Insurrectional movement at Lyons — Death of Mme. de Stael — Mole 
— The Abb6 de Bombelles, Bishop of Amiens — Mme. d'Esquelbecq 
and her children. 

In May our friend the Comtesse Charles de Damas had a long 
and dangerous illness. Her doctors ordered her to take rest and 
country air. In her uneasy state of mind the first was impossi- 
ble and the second equally so, for her Bourgogne estate was too 
far away, and as to that of Livry, which had been sanctified by 
Monsieur's sojourn in 1814, she had sold it. Under these 
difficult circumstances, a chateau that was situated in a healthy 
district, fifteen leagues from Paris, and owned by devoted friends 
was exactly what she wanted. As soon as Mme. de Chastellux 
had explained this, we cordially offered Bourneville and our 
invitation was accepted. Their arrival was timed for the begin- 
ning of July. 

Our good little prefect Maxime de Choiseul had just been 
transferred from Beauvais to Orleans, and Decazes had replaced 
him by one of his own friends, M. de Germiny, a mischief- 
making chatterbox who wrote such pleasant letters that I have 
preserved some of them.^ On the occasion of a little journey 
which I made to Beauvais on account of a lawsuit that had been 
pending for ten years before the Council of State between 
myself and the most celebrated thief of my district, a man 
named Robert, of the little town of Lizy, he overwhelmed me 
with engaging attentions. 

1 Henri Charles Le Bfegue, Comte de Germiny (1778-1843), member of the 
" undiscoverable " Chamber, Prefect of the Lot in 1816 and of the Oise in 
1817, and peer in 1819.— A. C. 

287 



288 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Robert was a former accomplice of Billaud-Varenne, through 
whom, it was said, he had had the Due de Gesvres guillotined, 
after buying his property for an annuity. He was also by 
common repute charged with a few other little offences, such as 
that of having drowned his mistress and their three children, 
and these exploits had gained for him in the district the name of 
Robert le Diable or Robert, Chief of the Brigands. As far as I 
was concerned, he had robbed me of a very fine mill, the Moulin 
de Mareuil, which the Revolution had presented to him free of 
charge, and of a hundred arpents of land that Bonaparte''s 
Council of State was about to hand over to him when I had the 
prudence to suspend my suit and he the imprudence to dispense 
with a judgment. Since the Restoration I had revived the 
case, luck turned in my favour and I ended by winning. 

This little journey on business caused me to miss a great 
pleasure. I had taken a box for the performance o{ Athaliey 
with the choruses, and played by Talma for the first time. It 
was to be a solemn spectacle, a true national J'ete, the consecra- 
tion of the rights of the legitimate princes. My family awaited 
my return. But, though I hastened back as fast as possible, I 
arrived two hours too late. I heard but the echoes of the 
performance, which had been worthy of Racine and of our cause. 
The ministry took umbrage, I believe, at the public enthusiasm. 
When shouted by more than ten people, " Long live the King ! " 
began to be regarded as a seditious cry, and Louis XVIII. had 
promised in his speech before Parliament that the errors of 
inconsiderate zeal should be repressed. 

. As a compensation, the day after my return a fortune was 
offered to me, and under the following circumstances. My 
cousin De Thesigny, companion of my childhood and youth, a 
good and very handsome fellow, but at fifty years of age still a 
bachelor and, in consequence of a stormy youth, an infirm, 
miserly hermit, lived in a small place on the third floor of a 
house in the Rue Vivienne, with an old housekeeper and a 
servant, although he owned an estate at Fay, six leagues from 
Paris, and from 600,000 to 700,000 francs, which he generally 
carried about with him. Although his door was open to no one 
save the good Abbe Seguret, his old tutor, he had retained his 
ancient friendship for me. As to his other cousins, Mme. de 



RISING AT LYONS 289 

Mackau and Mme. de Bon were dead ; Chazet had stolen his 
mistress and Fauveau his money. On his father's side, there 
remained only a M. de Silvy, a Jansenist crank who only lived 
to rebuild Port Royal, and who, in order to carry out this 
pious work, had, according to Thesigny, wished to get him 
declared incapable of managing his own affairs. Feeling 
exceedingly ill, Thesigny determined to transfer all his pro- 
perty to me during his lifetime, retaining the usufruct. The 
good Abbe placed this proposal before me. After twenty-four 
hours' reflection, I did not think that I was bound to plead my 
cousins' cause to the disadvantage of myself, and to refuse a 
fortune that, rather than allow them to touch a penny of it, he 
would have left to the Hotel-Dieu. So I accepted and went to 
see him. He was, in fact, on the point of dying. He pressed 
me to have the deed drawn up. Our notaries were sent for. 
But whilst they were at their work the dying man improved 
and began to shuffle out of his bargain ; finally got better and 
retracted. Had it not been for my Beauvais journey, which 
retarded the business for several days, it is probable that this 
fortune would have become mine. 

, It was at this time, after hesitating for three years, that I 
decided to dispense with the services of my doctor Jouard. He 
had saved my life in 1808, and this had made me mucjh attached 
to him and patient with his eccentricities. But he had become 
so self-important and neglectful of ray children's health that we 
replaced him by Dr. Moreau de la Sarthe, a professor at the 
School of Medicine, an excellent, gentle and assiduous physician. 
Our new doctor was the husband — although not in name — of 
Talma's divorced wife, the celebrated and charming actress, 
Mme. Petit, widow of my old dancing-master. When Talma, 
who had also remarried, died, a servant brought the news to 
his first wife with the words : " Mme. Talma — Mme. Talma 
sends me to tell you that your husband is dead ! " 

Meanwhile France was restless. An insurrection almost broke 
out at Lyons, It was repressed after Bonaparte's fashion. 
Blood was spilt, scaffolds were raised, and there was a royalist 
reaction. Marmont was sent as a pacificator but only succeeded 
in making things worse. The regiments which the Due de 
Feltre had taught to shout " Long live the King ! " he silenced, 

T 



290 BARON DE FRENILLY 

on the ground that the cry was seditious. So the revolt was, in 
fact, one against Marmont. A rascal in his service, named 
Fabvier,^ published, to the great scandal of honest people, an 
apology for the revolt, accusing the authorities and insulting 
the royalists. This affair and its consequences long excited 
Paris and considerably increased the gulf between ourselves and 
the ministry. 

At the beginning of July, literature suffered a loss through 
the death of Baronne de Stael, the first friend of my childhood 
but unfaithful to me for the remainder of her life. She had a 
brilliant yet heedless mind ; was a good-natured yet dangerous 
woman. When already of a mature age, she had married hand- 
some M. de Rocca, who barely survived her. She had loved 
him after the manner of Corinne and Delphine, and had then 
married him in spite of his father, a common-sense native of 
Languedoc who did not want anything to do with her. A 
result of this clandestine marriage was that, wholly unexpectedly, 
she became enceinte, which she called in Geneva by the name of 
dropsy. It was then that Capelle, the prefect of the town, 
dedicated to her the following quatrain : 

Par ses talents, par son genie, 
EUe va droit a I'immortalite, 

Et jusqu'i son hydropisie, 
Rien n'est perdu pour la posterite.2 

After a months stay with her mother, Mme. de Chastellux, 
at the beginning of August, left with Mme. Just de Noailles 
for Aix-les-Bains, whence she did not return to us until the end 
of September. Mme. de Damas remained. Quite reestablished, 
and relieved in our homely interior of the burden of keeping 
up society conversations, she was constantly amiable, natural 
and even cheerful. 

On October 1, Rosambo, his wife and their four children came 

1 Fabvier was then chief of Marmont's staff. In regard to this incident, 
cf. Pasquier's Mimoires, vol. iv. pp. 183-186, and Debidour's work Le Oiniral 
Fabvier, 1904, pp. 126-151.— A. C. 

2 Mme. de Stael died on July 14. Was Capelle the author of this epigram 7 
He sent it, with another, to the Minister of General Police, accompanied by a 
letter dated April 30, 1817 (reproduced in Charles Nauroy's Le Curicux, vol. i. 
pp. 68-69), and Baron Mounier {Souvenirs intimes et notes, p. 391) expressly 
attributes it to him. — A. C. 



A CELEBRATED ABBE 291 

to return, during ten days, the long visit we had paid them at 
the Chateau de Mesnil three years before. Ludovic was sixteen 
years of age ; Marie, seventeen ; Pauline, twelve ; and Made- 
leine, four. Of this progeny there remain, alas ! but the first 
and the last. 

On October 10 I left with the Rosambos to pass ten more 
days in Paris, where I had to see to our removal to a new 
residence. Our two years of penitence and economy had 
expired, and our means now allowed us to leave our third-floor 
apartment in the Champs-Elysees, the delightful position of 
which I long regretted. We took a house in the Rue du 
Marche d'Aguesseau.^ 

To the great scandal of the royalist party, Mathieu Mole had 
for the past three weeks been at the Ministry of Marine. So 
far he had only had charge of the Road Surveying department, 
the Ministry of the Interior and the Ministry of Justice, and 
certainly he knew as much about ships as roads. But he 
represented a vote on the Council and at that time his was not 
without value. Brought up by Bonaparte and possessing a 
veneer of Liberal ideas, he was Decazes' counterpart, with the 
additional advantages of figure, birth, and antecedents. His 
somewhat pedantic stiffness did not make one fear that he 
would become a favourite with Louis XVIII,, who had detested 
and disgraced him in 1814. This good prince"'s hatred was 
relentless only in the case of his friends ! 

During my short stay in Paris the Abbe de Bombelles was 
appointed Bishop of Amiens. Formerly ambassador in Lisbon 
and in Venice, Comte de Bombelles had married Mile, de 
Mackau, the most beautiful of beautiful women and the friend 
rather than the lady of honour of the saintly Princesse 
Elisabeth. He thus became related to my family. Having 
emigrated from Venice to Russia and afterwards to Germany, 
where, sometimes at Munich and sometimes at Vienna, he 
looked after the political interests of the royal family, he found 
himself, at the death of his wife, the father of a daughter and 
four infant sons. These children were brought up by the 
Emperor Francis II. As regards himself, disconsolate over 

1 The Rue d'Aguesseau, in the Rue Saint-Honorg. This house had a 
garden and was a rather fine residence. — A. C. 



292 BARON DE FRENILLY 

his loss, he took orders and devoted himself to the lowest duties 
of his profession. I believe that he was still a simple cure near 
Breslau, in Prussian Silesia, when the Restoration brought him 
back to France, accompanied by his daughter Caroline, who 
had been educated at the Visitation in Vienna, and his youngest 
son, who, like his father, had taken orders, and who died but a 
short time afterwards. The Abbe de Bombelles then became 
Chief Almoner to the Duchesse de Berry, and from that post 
rose, as I have said, to be Bishop of Amiens. Whilst being 
the most pious of ecclesiastics, he was the most amiable of 
society men, the most indulgent of old people, and, apart from 
his little fault of being inexhaustible, the most amusing of 
story-tellers. He had seen and done much, and I have heard 
from his son Charles that his family preserves eighty volumes 
of his notes. In his first sermon from the pulpit of Amiens 
Cathedral he spoke of his debut and recent appointment, both 
of which the town had witnessed. He had, in fact, made his 
start there under the uniform of a lieutenant of hussars.-^ 

I returned on October 21 to Bourneville, which Mme. de 
Damas and Mme. de Chastellux left a week later. We felt 
our solitude very much after those four months of friendly 
communion. 

In December my old friend Mme. d'Esquelbecq lost her 
charming daughter the Marquise de Rochedragon, who was an 
angel both in face and in character. She died at the austere 
castle of her father-in-law, that miser of the Berry who cut off 
his servants'* supply of candles when it was moonlight. The 
interest we showed in her poor mother renewed my old friend- 
ship with her. The poor woman, who was the weakest I have 
known, had no one else left but her daughter Mathilde de 
Bethisy, lady of honour to the Duchesse de Berry, a good 
woman at bottom, but brilliant, fashionable and with no great 
affection for her, and her son, a bad fellow who was the torment 
of her life. 

1 Regarding the Bombelles family, c/. Mme. du Montet's Souvenirs, pp. 
292 -208, and efipecially Comte Fleury's recent works, Angelique de Mackau et 
la cour de Madame Elisabeth and Les Dernier s annees du marquis et de la 
marquise de Bombelles, — A. C. 



CHAPTER XIV 
1818 

Dinners and Suppers — Mme. de Damas and Mme. de la Tremoille — 
Armand de Mackau— The Statue of Henri IV. — The Conservateur — 
Elections — Lafayette, Manuel, and Gregoire — Gouvion Saint-Cyr — 
Villele and Corbiere — Vinde — The Missions — Kichelieu. 

On January 16, 1818, after an eclipse of twenty-seven months, 
our star reappeared on the horizon in the latitude of the Rue 
du Marche d'Aguesseau, a somewhat poor but rather cheerful 
quarter, surrounded by gardens, and very fashionable owing to 
its position in the centre of the Faubourg Saint-Honore, which 
for the past eleven years had been our home. My dinners and 
suppers were resumed ; but they had lost their social importance 
and at the same time not a few of the old guests. During the 
last four years many changes had taken place among things and 
men ; there were friends who had become acquaintances, and 
acquaintances, strangers. 

Our dinners were given on Mondays. The guests were 
Rosambo, TouroUe, Vitrolles, the Abbe de Bombelles, Mathieu 
de Montmorency, Fitz- James, Humbert de Sesmaisons, Vaublanc, 
Michaud, Bonald, Chateaubriand, the Rouge's, and, later, Villele, 
Corbiere, Charles de Damas, and a few others. 

Our suppers were on Saturdays. They were attended by our 
former guests, with the exception of the Vintimilles and Fezen- 
sacs, who came but rarely, little Mme. de Lamoignon, who lived 
in retirement, Pasquier, Mole, Julien and a few others who had 
become ministerialists or ministers. Mme. de La Briche and her 
daughter remained faithful to us, and the gaps were filled up by 
the D'Orvilliers, the D'Orglandes, the Mortefontaines, the D'Es- 
quelbecqs, the De Lages, the Nansoutys, and others. As a whole 

293 



294 BARON DE FRENILLY 

they compensated for the losses and became more and more 
numerous, because I was known and was evolving into a party- 
man. At Vitrolles\ one evening, Humbert de Sesmaisons, whom 
I had never known but slightly, came up to me and said : " I 
have just wagered that if I called upon you, you would not close 
your door to me. You are too gallant a man to make me lose 
my bet." " I desire, however," replied I, " to give you the right 
to force my door by forcing yours to-morrow." On another 
evening, also at Vitrolles", whose house had become very brilliant 
(Decazes had made him lose his position as Secretary to the 
Council, including the residence that went with it, and Vitrolles, 
risino; instead of descendina;, had taken the fine Hotel d'Imecourt, 



'&■> 



in the Rue Boudreau), Prince de La Tremoille came on behalf 
of his wife to reproach me for having abandoned her, and pressed 
me to come on the very next day to renew the friendship. The 
abandonment was, in truth, a flagrant one and difficult to ex- 
cuse, for it dated back some eighteen years ; but having become 
the intimate friend of her sister, Mme. de Damas, our relations 
had to change. Everybody knew of the incompatibility that 
existed between these two women, both so excellent — each in 
her own way. 

We gave, that winter, two modest little balls for the purpose 
of introducing Claire to society. Balls constitute a sort of 
bazaar for the display of marriageable daughters. 

One Monday in April, the new Bishop of Amiens, who had 
dined at my house, introduced us to his nephew Armand de 
Mackau, whom I had lost sight of for many years. Under the 
Empire he had entered the navy, and had distinguished himself 
by a brilliant feat of arms. But the navy, which had constantly 
met with misfortune under Bonaparte, was almost non-existent 
under Louis XYHI. Armand, who was a man of brilliant 
courage though timid in character, lamented over this check in 
his career. A mission to Goree was in preparation, and, in 
truth, the desire to be entrusted with it was a much stronger 
motive for him coming to my house than the desire to renew 
acquaintance with an uncle who was little of a Bonapartist and 
an uncompromising aristocrat. I spoke of the subject to Mole, 
whose self-esteem still prompted him to call himself my friend, 
and who, at my very first word, gave him the command of the 



STATUE OF HENRI IV. 295 

corvette. Armand set off, carried out his mission, and returned 
to read his reports to Louis XVIII. The Duchesse d'Angouleme 
welcomed and, as the son of her former assistant-governess, 
protected him, I had helped him into the saddle and he set off 
from that moment at a gallop. We vs^ere very fond of him and 
treated him as though he had been our son ; and this lasted 
twelve years, that is, as long as he himself desired.^ 

At the beginning of May we returned to Bourneville. Great 
was the activity there, for masons, painters and upholsterers 
were at work on the chateau, and navvies were busy in the 
park. 

On August 16, during a stay which I made in Paris from the 
12th to the 26th, the bronze equestrian statue of Henri IV., 
copied from the old one, was placed on its ancient pedestal. It 
had been cast at Lemofs founderies at the top of the Faubourg 
Saint-Honore, whence, on the 14th, it set off for the Pont-Neuf, 
by way of the Allee de Marigny. Twenty pairs of oxen were 
unable to drag the enormous mass along, so that from eight in 
the morning until six o'clock at night the hero remained immo- 
bile. We then beheld a touching sight. The people unyoked 
the oxen ; all the ropes of the quarter were called into requisi- 
tion ; and a thousand men dragged the statue along the Champs- 
Elysees, the Place Louis XV., and the Quai des Tuileries. They 
rested under the windows of the Pavilion de Flore, where all the 
descendants of the good king had assembled to witness this 
amusing sight. The great king was obliged to stop all night 
opposite the Pont des Arts. The next morning the statue was 
taken to its site, and on the 16th was raised on to its pedestal, 
amidst the cheers of the crowd on the Pont-Neuf and quays. 
The royal family witnessed the inauguration from a platform 
and endured a long homily composed by Barbe-Marbois, and 
delivered by him with gestures after the manner of Talma. 

It appears to me that this was also the time of the famous 
bord de Veau conspiracy, so called because it was hatched in the 

1 Armand de Mackau (1788-1855) was second-lieutenant and in temporary 
command of the Aheille when, whilst returning from Corsica to Leghorn, on 
March 26, 1811, he captured the English brig Alacrity, after three-quarters of 
an hour's fight. Promoted to the rank of lieutenant, he carried out, in 1819, 
the mission to the Senegal to which Frenilly refers and for which he was 
made a captain. — A. C. 



296 BARON DE FRENILLY 

sun on the grand terrace of the Tuileries. Decazes, its inventor 
or ampHfier, would have liked to have profited by it, had it 
been but to the extent of a few dozen royalist dismissals, but 
the Parisian public treated the affair in so gay a manner that 
he had to desist. Here, however, is the story of a real and 
substantial conspiracy of which Decazes knew nothing and of 
which nobody has spoken. It was contrived in my study. I 
had met in Paris the crazy but excellent De Bruc who had been 
the cause of my arrest at Saint-Malo, and from time to time we 
saw each other. His Breton brain was boiling over with in- 
dignation and he was continually forming plans. He had under- 
taken — he alone — to save the country, and he asked me to fix 
a day for the communication of his plan. Only one other 
person was to be present, — Raineville per^, an honest maniac 
who was always full of projects. Now, the plan that De Bruc 
laid before us was simply one to abduct the King. Nothing 
was easier in the world. Whilst he was on one of those drives 
of twelve to fifteen leagues on which he daily tired out his 
guard and horses, a band of armed men would stop the carriage, 
change its route, and, relays of horses having been prepared, 
take it at full speed to . . ., where Louis would be made to 
sign a proclamation and dismiss his ministers. The plan was 
superb, simple and infallible ; the only thing lacking was money, 
and this was the subject of the interview. Raineville and I 
would gladly have seen Louis XVIH. at Pondicherry had it 
pleased Heaven to so order it, but neither of us was disposed 
to take the risks and bear the expense of such a journey. So 
we politely declined the Breton's proposal, whereupon he broke 
with us, declaring that he would do without our assistance and 
that we had lost the two ministries he had reserved for us. 

About this time I suffered a painful loss — that of my oldest 
friend, the Marquise d'Audiffret, whose death followed closely 
on that of her mother, Mme. Le Senechal, who had been my 
father's oldest friend. Each, in turn, had been pre-eminent in 
wit, grace, elegance and beauty. 

It was in October of this year that the Conservateur, which 
was to meet with such an immediate success, was started. The 
idea of such a periodical dated back to the winter of 1816 
when Vitrolles wanted me to collaborate with Fievee, but owing 



THE "CONSERVATEUR ' 297 

to my refusal and perhaps that of others it came to nothing. 
It was revived in the following summer in the Correspondant, 
but this mariage de circonstance between two nations that had 
a great hatred for each other was already threatening to end 
in a divorce through incompatibility of temper. Moreover, 
though the signboard bore some fine names, there was very 
little in the shop. One morning in the spring of that year, 
Vitrolles came to see me to propose the Conservateur enterprise. 
Not being of an impulsive nature, I studied the proposal ; and 
at the beginning of the autumn, after Vitrolles had carried out 
other negotiations, an association, to which I gladly promised 
to belong, was formed. Chateaubriand joined it, preceded by 
his usual flourish of trumpets. At the beginning he played 
the part of architect and treated Bonald, Lamennais, Fievee, 
Castelbajac, d'Herbouville and myself as his assistants. The 
sequel promptly showed that if the birth of this periodical was 
due to him, it was to others that it owed its fortune. My first 
article, in three instalments, on the past, present and future of 
public affairs had a tremendous success, and soon made my 
name known. But I am forgetting to say that at the outset 
we fortunately broke with Fievee, an insolent yet witty fop 
whose opinion was to be found in any one's purse. He took 
his articles to the Mitierve, a Jacobin organ that had been 
started in opposition to ours and for which they were much 
better suited.-^ 

Meanwhile the ministerial bark sailed along under full canvas. 
The autumn elections ^ brought a noteworthy reinforcement to 
the left side of the Chamber. Lafayette was elected for the 
arrondissement of Meaux, whereupon the King fell into a little 
fit of anger and removed from the town one of the regiments 
of his guard. Another of the new members was Manuel, a 
little Marseilles advocate whom that rascal Laffitte made 
eligible by means of a fictitious sale. He was a tiger with the 
face of a cat and concealed the soul of a hyena under his 
wheedling look, but was precious to his party because he talked 

1 Joseph Fievee (1767-1839), author of Za Dot de Suzette (1798), one of 
Bonaparte's agents, manager of the Journal de V Empire, master of requests 
(1807), Prefect of the Nievre (1813), &c.— A. C. 

2 The autumn of 1819 and not that, as the author says, of 1818. The 
elections were held on September 14. — A. C. 



298 BARON DE FRENILLY 

as long as it wanted. The most glorious of these elections, 
however, was that of the regicide Gregoire. But it was annulled, 
owing to the scandal. 

Shortly afterwards the camarilla gained a less costly victory 
through the death of the Due de Feltre, Minister of War, who 
had had the courage to remain an honest man and a royalist, 
and who during three years had been forming for the King a 
good and faithful army.^ Now, however disorganised a Govern- 
ment may be, nothing is lost so long as the ultima ratio regum 
remains and an appeal can be made to bayonets. It was 
important that this should be looked to and that a liberal 
education should be given to that army which Marmont, at 
Lyons, had found seditiously faithful. Marshal Gouvion Saint- 
Cyr, who succeeded the Due de Feltre, occupied himself with this 
work. To him was due the most decisive step that had been taken 
towards the fall of the throne since the dissolution of the "' undis- 
coverable "" Chamber — I refer to his famous military decree which, 
on the one hand, deprived the Crown of the choice of half the 
officers and, on the other, organised the appointment of non- 
commissioned officers in such a way that they became the real 
masters of the soldiers, the control of the army thus gradually 
passing from men whose rank, birth, principles, education and 
fortune were sure guarantees to the State into the hands of 
proletarians whom it was easy to lead astray or corrupt. And 
to think that a king could be found to sign such a decree ! . . . 
Such was the capacity and judgment of the translator of Horace. 
He sowed the seeds of the revolution that was to overthrow 
his brother. Was it possible to love one's native country 
without despising such a man ? 

On the occasion of a short visit which I made to Paris in 
November, Alexis de Rouge, with whom I was on rather 
intimate terms, made me acquainted with Villele by inviting 
me to lunch with him. Villele, who had been a member of the 
Chamber of Deputies for the past three years, had come to the 
front gradually and not through great abihty as a speaker. 
But he was extremely lucid, ready, cautious and consistent, and, 
in addition to extreme justness of mind, possessed a perseverance 

1 Clarke, Due de Feltre, a peer since 1815, and Minister of War from March 
12, 1815, to September 13, 1817, died on October 28, 1818.— A. C. 



THE FRENCH MISSIONS 299 

that went as far as stubbornness. Moreover, he was a good and 
sincere friend. 

Villele had attracted little attention in the " undiscoverable " 
Chamber, because its big majority was in accord and with- 
out opposition. But when the dissolution strengthened the 
left side and the ground began to be disputed, tactics, dis- 
cipline and leaders became necessary. The first of these 
leaders was Villele, and his followers were beginning to march 
under his flag in a compact body. The second was Corbiere, 
an advocate of Rennes, whose fierce and patriotic royalism com- 
pensated for the disadvantage of his calling, though without 
hiding it.^ 

Whilst the throne and France were thus drifting, theatrical 
performances were being merrily given at Mme. de Morte- 
fontaine's, at Verneuil, after having been merrily given at 
Le Marais. For the past two years I had refused to go to 
Le Marais as an actor, and my name had been struck off the 
list. It was with some pain that I felt I had become a stranger 
to the people with whom, as a whole, I had but lately been so 
intimate. They had now become bitter, malevolent and 
exclusive, and to them was due the invention of the name 
"ultra." 

Of my old friends, the one who pardoned me the least for my 
opinions — perhaps because he had liked me the most — was 
Vinde, who had become an ardent friend and enthusiastic 
admirer of Decazes. 

I was at this time rather busily engaged on a work on the 
French Missions, from the principal directors and rectors of 
which I received reports. Though I may have seen from these 
documents that there were a few hypocritical or ambitious men, 
such as the Abbe Fayet, the Abbe Feutrier, or the Abbe 
Genoude, I also perceived that, among the women as well as 
the men, there were pure and noble souls worthy of the early 
days of the Church and inspired like Saint Vincent de Paul. 
Unfortunately, after amassing a large number of papers and 
making many notes, my undertaking resulted in nothing more 

1 In reference to Villele (1773-1854) and Corbiere (1766-1853), see the 
histories of the Kestoration and especially the judgment that Pasquier has 
delivered "without bitterness" in his Mdmoires, vol. v. pp. 275-279. — A, C. 



300 BARON DE FRENILLY 

than making me acquainted with a multitude of good people, 
notably the saintly Abbe Frayssinous. ^ 

There was a mission of another kind at the end of the year 
1818 — that of the Due de Richelieu to the Aix-la-Chapelle 
Congress, to which he successfully applied for the withdrawal of 
the foreign garrison that for three years, in order to be answer- 
able to Europe and ourselves for our good conduct, had occupied 
our frontiers. With this treaty the Due de Richelieu ought to 
have brought his ministry to a close, for he daily saw it being 
drawn into the Decazes whirlpool. He did not leave it until 
three years later and died shortly afterwards, adored by two 
women whom he could not bear. One was his wife and the 
other that of Bernadotte, then Queen of Sweden, who, brought 
to bay by his coldness and in despair at not being able to obtain 
even his portrait, succeeded, as everybody then heard, in pro- 
curing one of a sort. She got a painter to conceal himself in a 
wardrobe with a glass-door adjoining the Due de Richelieu"'s 
study, and after a few sittings had brought to her a very striking 
portrait of the minister's secretary ! ^ 

1 Regarding the Societe des Missions de France, see Geoffroy de Grand- 
maison's La Congregation, pp. 238-240. — A. C. 

2 The Due de Richelieu, who was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs 
and President of the Council on September 26, 1815, was succeeded, on 
December 30, 1818, by Dessolle, after having signed, on October 9, the Aix-la- 
Chapelle Convention. He returned to power on February 20, 1820, after the 
death of the Due de Berry, and retired on December 12, 1821. In regard to 
his wife, see Mme. du Montet's Souvenirs, p. 244, and as regards the Queen of 
Sweden's affection, Hochschild's Disirde, reine de Sukde, p. 60, and the Com- 
tesse d'Armaille's D6siree Clary, pp. 246-2i9. — A. C. 



CHAPTER XV 
1819 

Herve de Nantes and Lauriston — Bausset — The Talarus — Marriage of 
Claire and Camille de Pimodan — Marriage of Decazes and Mile, de 
Sainte-Aulaire. 

Humbert de Sesmaisons ^ introduced me to two of Brittany's 
choicest gentlemen. One was Herve de Nantes, who combined 
the purest of minds and the most generous courage with the 
finest of physiques and the sweetest and frankest of faces. He 
was one of those men whom Cardinal de Retz would have said 
were to be found only in Plutarch. The other was Lauriston, 
Law de Lauriston, then Receiver-General for the Loire-Inferieure, 
a firm monarchist, as every man who had served under the 
Empire without being a Jacobin then was. 

I believe that I have said nothing about two other new 
acquaintances which date from that winter or the preceding one. 
One was Cardinal de Bausset, Bishop of Alais, who valued my 
writings a little and whose works I held in great esteem.^ The 
other, whom I found in the same house in the Rue de Grenelle, 
was the Marquise de Talaru. Formerly married to M. de 
Clermont-Tonnerre, who was assassinated on the Pont-Royal on 
August 10, 1792,^ and then steeped in mysticism, she ended, 

1 Louis Humbert, Comte de Sesmaisons (1777-1836), deputy for the Loire- 
Inferieure (1815-1816 and 1820-1827), peer in 1827. With Coetlosquet, Ver- 
diere and Courtemanche, he was one of the four historical corpulent men of 
the day, and, notwithstanding his size and weight, strong, alert, and in 
addition, witty. See Bonneval's Mdmoires, pp. 177-180. — A. C. 

2 Bausset (1724-1848), member of the Chamber of Peers in 1815 and of the 
French Academy in 1816, is chiefly known for his Histoire de Fenelon (1808- 
1809) and his Histoire de Bossuet (1814).— A. C. 

3 On August 10, this former member of the Constituent Assembly, when 

301 



302 BARON DE FRENILLY 

after converting La Harpe, by reappearing in society with the 
name of that good Justin de Talaru, who had entered her house 
in the quahty of a son-in-law and remained in that of a 
husband.^ 

We began in the winter of this year to occupy ourselves more 
over Claire, who was nearly eighteen, and whose worldly pleasures 
were as yet limited to drawing, and playing the piano. Several 
matches were offered to us. Finally, good Mme. d'Esquelbecq 
came to us with a pretender whom she had in vain desired for 
her niece De Brion. Young Camille de Pimodan — such was his 
name — had met my daughter in society and she had greatly 
pleased him. He was a captain of cavalry, handsome and well- 
shaped, a good fellow, and the son of Comte de Pimodan,^ 
formerly gentleman-of-honour to Monsieur, and of Mile, de 
Pons, lady-of-honour to Madame. This family, excellent in 
itself, was connected on both sides with the best blood in France, 
the Brissacs, Choiseuls, &c., and its only son would some day 
possess a very respectable fortune. Everything seemed to be 
suitable. Comte de Pimodan called upon me and frankly stated 
his fortune ; equally frankly, I stated my own ; and in half an 
hour the marriage was agreed to, on the condition that the 
young people should be given time to know each other better. 

The marriage was fixed for the early days of July, and, after 
the winter had been spent in paying compliments and in pre- 
paring the trousseau and wedding presents, we signed the 
contract and, in May, returned to the country. 

Numerous were the visits that we received in June, for happi- 
ness is a loadstone. In addition to Camille and his father, we 
entertained Mme. de Damas, Mme. de Chastellux, Comtesse 
Charles de Damas, Comtesse Cesar de Chastellux, Tourolle, his 

walking along the street, was, in fact, pointed out to the fury of the crowd 
and, in spite of the eiforts of the Croix-Rouge Section, massacred. — A. C. 

1 Louis Justin Marie, Marquis de Talaru (1769-1850), major-general, peer 
of France, and ambassador to Madrid. — A. C. 

2 Charles Louis Honore de Rarecourt de La Vallee de Pimodan, gentleman 
cadet (1778), major in the Barrels regiment (1788), grand bailli d'epee of Toul 
(1789), aide-de-camp to the Comte de Provence (1792), major-general (August 
30, 1814), lieutenant-general (May 23, 1825), son of Charles Jean de Rarecourt 
de La Vallee, Marquis de Pimodan, brigadier-general of the King's armies, 
lieutenant-general of the districts of Toul, &c., and of Charlotte Sidonie Rose 
de Gouffier. — A. C. 



MY DAUGHTER'S MARRIAGE 303 

son-in-law and his daughter, whom he had just brought back 
from Nice in better health. 

On June 26, Camille and I left this fashionable society to go 
and get our contract signed by the royal family. This ceremony 
took place on July 1. The King spolce not a word, either to his 
former gentleman-of-honour or to me, with whose works and 
fierce principles he was acquainted.^ The whole of his royal 
allocution, delivered in a silvery voice and with his eyes in the 
air, consisted of the usual phrase : "When is the wedding ? " 
Nor did the Due or Duchesse d'Angouleme say anything ; in his 
case because he lacked the faculty of speaking in a polished 
manner, in her case because she lacked polished manners. But on 
the part of Monsieur there was grace, kindness, and even praise. 

The marriage was celebrated on July 6 at the Church of the 
Assumption. 

I feared that the bridegroom's family would want it celebrated 
by at least a bishop, but it gladly contented itself with my good 
Abbe Seguret, whose benediction I counted as better than that 
of all the dignitaries of the Church. 

My daughter's witnesses were Comte Charles de Damas and 
my old friend the Marquis de Biencourt ; those of Camille, his 
cousin Timoleon, Due de Brissac, and Comte de Glandeves 
Governor of the Tuileries. As we wished to dine at Bourneville, 
everything was done post-haste ; mass at nine o'clock, wedding- 
breakfast at my house at half-past nine, departure at eleven, and 
arrival at Bourneville at six o'clock with the Comte and Comtesse 
de Pimodan. 

We found the whole place in a state of joy. Notwithstanding 
the Revolution, the peasantry is still so content to have a lord that 
one is forced into the belief that feudalism had its good features. 
Moreover, we reigned paternally and half of the people around 
us had been born under our empire. 

In December a singular political transaction took place. ^ 

1 Louis XVIII. had observed, however, the honours of the Louvre in the 
case of Mme. de Pimodan, n^e Pons, as the former chief lady-of-honour to 
Madame, vs^ho, after the death of Louis XVII., was treated as a queen ; and 
he would willingly have overwhelmed M. de Pimodan with favours had not 
the count lived in retirement and abstained from asking for anything. — A. C. 

2 In December 1820, and not, as the author says, in 1819. Cf. Pasquier's 
Memoires, vol. v. pp. 61-66. — A. C. 



304 BARON DE FRENILLY 

Villele and Corbiere were appointed ministers without port- 
folios. It is too long ago for me to remember by what transi- 
tions the King was led and Decazes forced to accept a concession 
so averse to their ideas. The appalling progress made by the 
Jacobins and the necessity of counterbalancing it was the 
probable cause. Many friends advised them to refuse to accept 
this sham combination, but they accepted. Corbiere did not 
increase his importance by one iota. Villele took up his resi- 
dence in Regnaud de Saint-Jean d'Angely's house in the Rue de 
Provence, and his salon was much frequented. 

Little Mme. Princeteau still held a foremost place in the good 
graces of the King, who was daily becoming more impotent. 
There was then in circulation a caricature, said to have come 
from London, representing the monarch and the fair lady in a 
tender situation. " My constitution will not permit of it," the 
former was saying, whereupon the latter cried : " Long live the 
King in any case ! " 

His Majesty was at this time much occupied in arranging a 
good marriage for his child of Libourne. The affair was a 
cabinet intrigue and his diplomacy excelled therein. He cast 
his eyes on the daughter of Sainte-Aulaire. One knows that 
Sainte-Aulaire, then a deputy, and who, during the Hundred 
Days, had been Prefect of Toulouse, unblushingly belonged, 
despite his name, to the left side of the Chamber. One also 
knows — at any rate people of my age know — that he had 
married, some twenty years before, a certain little Mile, 
de Soyecour, shaped like a " Z," peevish and capricious, 
but exceedingly rich, whom he had carried off from his 
friend poor Gontaut Saint-Geniez on the eve of the wedding. 
By this Carabosse he had had a daughter who was said to be 
endowed with the same graces as her mother, and who, in addi- 
tion to a solid million, claimed certain rights, representing an 
income of three or four hundred thousand livres, on the forests 
of Denmark. Such was the wench whom the King intended for 
his favourite. It must be explained that a Montmorency 
(Raoul) had previously haggled over her marriage and withdrawn 
from the negotiations because the father, who had nibbled at 
the dowry, refused to account for a sum of one hundred 
thousand francs. In the present case, however, there were no 



SAINTE-AULAIRE 305 

accounts to be rendered. There was the honour of his alhance 
with a Libourne baihfF, the prospect of honours and positions, 
on the condition that he veered towards the centre, and, finally, 
the support of the King of France in favour of his Denmark 
claims. To make the negotiations more honourable, it was the 
assassin of the Due d'Enghien,^ Savary, Due de Kovigo, who 
was the agent between Decazes and Sainte-Aulaire. On the 
King sending for the latter, Sainte-Aulaire insisted on a year's 
delay and assured Louis of his gratitude. " Whatever are you 
saying, Monsieur de Sainte-Aulaire," exclaimed the good prince. 
" It is I who owe you gratitude. This is a question of my son's 
happiness, and when your daughter is united to him, she will 
immediately become mine. But you speak of a year ! We 
must make haste ; I am old, and I like to see myself born again 
in my children ! " Thus spoke this great king. Sainte-Aulaire, 
who. Jacobin though he is, is lacking neither in decorum, nor 
in tact, nor in dignity, was probably laughing in his sleeve.^ 

1 A harsh epithet I Savary merely carried out orders. As colonel of the 
gendarmerie d'dite and the First Consul's aide-de-camp, he carried a sealed 
letter from Bonaparte to Murat, Governor of Paris, and Murat ordered him to 
bring the gendarmery and a brigade of infantry to Vincennes. But he did 
wrong in one respect. When Colonel Barrois, before the meeting of the 
court-martial, pointed out that the Due d'Enghien begged for an interview 
with the first Consul, and proposed that judgment be suspended, so that the 
matter could be referred to Bonaparte, Savary declared that such a step was 
inopportune. — A. C. 

2 Louis Clair de Beaupoil, Comte de Sainte-Aulaire (1778-1854), pupil of 
the Polytechnic School, chamberlain and prefect of Napoleon, deputy for the 
Meuse, then for the Gard, peer in 1829 on the death of his father, ambassador 
to Kome, Vienna and London, under the Government of July, member of the 
French Academy in 1841, and author of a Histoire de la Fronde, published in 
1827 in three volumes. — A. 0. 



CHAPTER XVI 

1820 

Assassination of the Due de Berry — Death of the Conservateur — 
Keturn of parliamentary ambition. 

The success of the Conservateur had been so pronounced that it 
brought in a great deal of money and a good deal of glory. The 
latter part of the profits was ours — by which I mean Bonald, 
myself and company, who were very well contented with it. At 
the beginning of the winter, our friends the founders, Mathieu 
de Montmorency, Fitz- James, Talaru, Vitrolles, Chateaubriand, 
and others, came to the conclusion that it was only fair to 
share the money with us. Each of them received at least twenty 
thousand francs net per annum. Mathieu de Montmorency 
undertook to share with Lamennais, Talaru with Bonald, 
Vitrolles with me, and so on, in the case of the others. This 
division was faithfully carried out by everybody except one 
person, Vitrolles. He contrived, with a Gascon effrontery that 
made me begin to see a little more clearly into his character, to 
keep both his own share and mine. I believe that the poor 
baron was daily getting deeper and deeper into debt, whilst his 
hopes grew less and less. 

On February 13, Shrove Sunday, after being at a hal masque 
at Mme. de La Briche's, we went to a raout which the Comtesse 
de Pimodan was giving in honour of her daughter-in-law, and 
whilst there heard the rumour that the Due de Berry had just 
been assassinated at the Opera. Seizing Helye de Pons' arm, 
we ran off to the Opera, to find, on arriving there, that the 
unfortunate prince, who had been stabbed by the execrable 
Louvel as he was stepping into his carriage, had been carried 
into an entresol of the theatre. The narrow staircase leading 

306 



THE DUG DE BERRY 307 

to it was already crowded. The vestibule and even the street 
were filled by all the most important people of Paris, anxiously 
waiting for news. A terrible silence reigned over the crowd, 
and the adjoining streets were guarded to prevent the passage 
of vehicles. At the expenditure of great industry and patience, 
we succeeded in reaching the door of the room where the 
prince was lying, to learn the horrible truth that all hope 
was over. The poor prince had only one daughter,^ and he 
alone promised to provide heirs to the Crown. His life being 
the only obstacle to the Orleans family, there had been no 
time to lose. The blow, therefore, was well thought out, well 
struck, and doubtless well paid for. At two o'clock in the 
morning we brought the sad news to the Comtesse de Pimo- 
dan's, where everybody was waiting to hear it. Meanwhile, 
all Paris had left the Shrove Sunday festivities to go to the 
Elysee, hoping to see the Due de Berry brought back at any 
moment. Men and women were stationed pellmell on the 
grand staircase, overcome with fatigue and anguish. Thus 
passed the whole of the night. At six o'clock in the morn- 
ing, the Duchesse de Berry, who was enceinte, returned alone. 
Her husband was dead. I must not forget to mention the 
courage of Mathilde de Bethisy, who, dashing from the 
carriage in which the Duchesse was already seated, supported 
the prince, drew the dagger from the wound, and, though 
covered with his blood, continued to attend to him ; nor the 
devotion of the Due de Maille, first gentleman of the cham- 
ber to Monsieur, who, seeing his carriage full when it set off 
for the Tuileries, mounted behind with the lackeys, so as not 
to lose sight of his master ; nor the Christian compassion of 
the poor prince who, up to the end, asked pardon for his 
murderer; nor the conversion of the celebrated Dupuytren, 
who witnessed this heartrending scene for seven hours, and 
who, in the presence of such sorrow, virtue, charity and 
Christianity, became an ardent and sincere royalist. Since 
then, in 1830, when Charles X. had left France, we have 
seen him offer his fortune to the King. 

1 Nauroy's researches have since revealed the fact that the Due de Berry 
had two sons by Virginie Oreille, a son by Marie Delaroche, and two daughters 
by Amy Brown. — ^A. C. 



308 BARON DE FRENILLY 

A universal cry of horror arose from the country. The public 
demanded a victim. After a week had passed, Decazes, whom 
Clause! de Coussergues, the day after the crime, had proposed 
should be placed on trial as an accomplice, was disgraced. This 
was one of those periods of salvation which Providence offers to 
nations that are in a state of decadence. It is for them to seize 
the opportunity. A royalist king would have done so by dis- 
solving the Chamber, driving the Orleans family out of the 
country, and appointing a royalist ministry. The cabinet was, 
indeed, reconstituted, but instead of royalists we were given 
such men as Pasquier and Mounier.^ The outcry of the public 
was regarded as a tumult that must be suppressed, the assassi- 
nation as an accident, and the expression " isolated crime " 
became the mot cTordre which they attempted to bring into 
vogue. I still recollect meeting Bastard, M. de Vergennes"' 
grand-nephew, a good magistrate and intelligent man, and who 
had been Decazes"* college comrade, at the Due de Berry's funeral 
at Saint-Denis, and being singularly surprised to hear him say 
to me : " The most extraordinary thing about this crime is that 
they have not yet been able to discover the accomplices. Would 
it not be strange if such a crime were the work of a solitary 
criminal ? " " I consider that to be impossible,'' I replied. 
Such was the nuance they employed with me ; with others they 
were more outspoken. In short, the agent that had committed 
the crime perished as a solitary malefactor, but the arm that 
had guided him remained hidden in darkness, and, apart from 
Decazes, everything continued in the same track. The victim's 
blood had been spilt in vain ! 

On March 30 the Conservateur ceased to appear. Chateau- 
briand, who had made a parade of its establishment, did the same 
at the time of its death, as though, when a Louis XVIII. was 
still on the throne and a Pasquier was in the ministry, when half 
the Chamber was revolutionary and disorder was spreading over 
France, the dismissal of a Decazes constituted a victory for the 
monarchy, religion and honest men. Never had there been a 
greater need for the Conservateur. I pleaded its cause to 
Chateaubriand, but met with only egoism and vanity. He had 

1 Pasquier retained the seals and Mounier, with Simeon as minister, became 
Under Secretary of State at the Ministry of the Interior. — A. C. 



POLITICAL AMBITION 309 

won over the founders to his way of thinking, so the Conserva- 
teur was no longer published, and we could not obtain even the 
right to preserve its name. Bonald, Lamennais and I continued 
it for some time under the name of the Defenseur. 

Rene, the eldest of my grandsons, was born in Paris on 
April 11.1 

We returned to Bourneville in May. The Duchesse de 
Berry's condition was then known to the public, and Louvel's 
accomplices endeavoured, some to make out that she was only 
supposed to be enceinte^ others to cause her to have a miscarriage 
by infernal machine explosions. 

In September I was seized with a most serious attack of 
political ambition. The quinquennial renewal of deputies for 
my department of the Oise was to take place in October. I was 
beginning to have a large number of friends in various parts of 
France, but more at Beauvais than elsewhere, and a certain M. 
de Germiny had given up the Prefecture to Brochet de Verigny, 
a loyal and excellent man whom I held in great esteem.^ Two 
deputies were to be elected for the grand college. Monsieur, 
through the agency of the Due de Fitz-James, openly favoured 
Kergorlay and I. The King excluded us both, but with this 
difference, that if one of us were to be suifered I should be given 
the preference, on the very good ground that a probable evil 
was to be preferred to a certain one. On the other hand, as the 
election was to take place at the chief town of the department, 
where the aristocracy dominated, and the King having very 
little influence there, the two elections admitted of hardly any 
doubt. Kergorlay's return was certain ; as to mine, it could 
only be prevented by my good neighbour Hericart de Thury.^ 
His reputation as a savant, repeated by newspaper after news- 
paper, and the fastidious prudence of his royaliam, assured him 

1 Rene de Rarecourt de La Vallee de Pimodan, who died young and 
unmarried. — A. C. 

2 13rochet de Verigny, master of requests and counsellor to Monsieur, 
Deputy for the Calvados and later Prefect of the Loire-Inferienre. — A. C. 

3 Vicomte Louis Etienne Frangois Hericart de Thury (1776-1854), deputy 
for the Oise from 1815 to 1816 and from 1820 to 1827, and member of the 
Academy of Sciences, directed, as chief engineer, the works of the Paris 
Catacombs, and wrote, in addition to a Description des catacorabes, a number 
of papers on public works, geology and agriculture, — A, C, 



310 BARON DE FRENILLY 

some of the votes of the opposition. If he could set me aside, 
he was certain, therefore, to be elected. With this object in 
view, he set to work with the caution of a mole. He began by 
telling all the electors he knew that Bourneville, though it is 
situated on a main road and on the banks of a navigable water- 
course, was in a distant, deserted and inaccessible region. My 
honourable opponent then informed his uncle Ferrand, an ex- 
minister who had remained a Minister of State and on very 
friendly terms with the King, that, not wishing to expose myself 
to certain defeat, I had decided to withdraw from the contest. 
Ferrand ran with the news to the King, who immediately told 
it to Monsieur, who then repeated it to Fitz-James. Where- 
upon they abandoned me. My clever neighbour was given the 
presidency of the college that had been intended for me. 
Hastening to Paris, 1 saw Ferrand, enlightened the King, and 
undeceived Monsieur. But, innocent though I was, I was 
swamped. It was poor consolation to hear people say to me : 
" Your opponent is a rascal." The elections were in iive days. 

I reached Beauvais in an exceedingly irritated state of mind. 
The first step I took was to have printed and widely circulated 
a rectification of the erroneous statement made in respect to me. 
This changed the aspect of things, and at that time there is no 
doubt that, if I had had the sort of conscience my neighbour 
possessed, I could have swamped Kergorlay and been returned 
with Thury. But the idea never entered my head. In the 
evening I went to Verigny's. My opponent was there, but he 
slipped off. Fitz-James then arrived, and, remaining with him 
and the Prefect, they held forth at such length on the danger 
of our disunion resulting in the return of a Jacobin that, after 
twenty-four hours'* consideration I publicly withdrew from the 
contest, and asked that my supporters'* votes be given to M. de 
Thury. This little Roman act, which consoled me for every- 
thing, won for me good Verigny''s sincere friendship, the esteem 
of the Tuileries, Monsieur's favour, Kergorlay's confession that 
he owed his appointment to me, and a little ovation in Beauvais, 
where all the votes were promised me for the next election. 

We returned to Paris at the end of December. 



CHAPTER XVII 
1821 

Official introduction to Monsieur — Death of Mme. de Crisenoy — The 
author's election as Deputy for Savenay — The Piet Group — Two 
Speeches — Martignac. 

Our household being the same as usual, I have only two things 
to note concerning the winter of 1821. 

The first is that, at the beginning of January, I was intro- 
duced to Monsieur. His two first gentlemen, M. de Maille and 
M. de Fitz-James, acted in a truly friendly manner and obtained 
for me a charming reception. Possessing no official position 
whatsoever, I wore an ordinary dress-coat, which was as ridiculous 
then at the Tuileries as a uniform would formerly have been at 
Versailles. Shortly afterwards. Monsieur granted me permission 
to pay my court in the evening in his study, alone. I took 
advantage of this about once a week and had some noble and 
touching conversations with him. 

The other event was the death of charming Caroline de 
Crisenoy, who succumbed in March at the time of her daughter's 
birth. The poor little woman, who was constitutionally frail, 
but full of grace and vivacity, had remained crushed under the 
weight of a husband who, though pious and honest, was as heavy 
in manners and mind as in figure. Two journeys to Nice had 
momentarily revived her. What she required was a calm and 
happy life under an Italian sun — far from the religious bull 
who, by forcing her to undergo the fatigues of motherhood, 
killed her. 

In May, we returned to Bourneville, accompanied by an 
excellent little mathematician, M. Defauconpret, whom I had 
engaged to coach Olivier for the autumn Saint-Cyr examinations. 

311 



312 BARON DE FRENILLY 

We had certainly no desire to make a soldier of him ; but, 
as he was averse to study, had a taste for pleasure, and was 
already impatient under the parental yoke, we required not 
a convent where the pupils were brought up in cotton wool, 
like that of Mme. de Sevigne, but a convent where the rule 
was of iron, in order to subdue him. Saint-Cyr, which was 
then well constituted and perfectly governed, was the only 
honourable and useful prison where one could place a boy of 
his age. 

June brought us the visit of the Due de Brissac and two of 
his daughters, poor young persons who have since died. On 
August 1 there arrived the Comte de Pimodan and his wife, 
Mme. de Nansouty, her son Stephen, Olivier's companion, Mmes. 
de Damas and de Chastellux, Leonce and Charles, inseparable 
friends of my son, and, finally, their tutor, M. Bradier, whom 
the good Abbe Seguret had found for them. Unfortunately, 
Olivier had gone to his grandfather's in Paris at the end of 
July to complete, under Defauconpret, the preparation for his 
examinations. I joined him on August 4. He passed his ex- 
aminations, was admitted to Saint-Cyr, and on the 9th I took 
him back to Bourneville and his three comrades ! How they 
amused themselves ! Among other things they held a tourna- 
ment with donkeys in my riding-school. 

In September we had a long visit from Mme. d'Esquelbecq. 

Now, whilst I was resting on my oars after the semi-fiasco at 
Beauvais, having put aside ambition for two or three years, it 
chanced that I was being thought about on the banks of the 
Loire. Some Bretons and inhabitants of the Vendee decided, 
on the strength of my writings, to place their interests in my 
hands. On September 13 I received a letter from my good 
friend Herve, of Nantes, inquiring as to my means and asking if, 
in case I were nominated for Savenay, an arrondissement of the 
Loire-Inferieure, I would accept. I replied : " I have an income 
of sixty thousand francs and I would accept." Then I left 
Fortune to turn the wheel. But whilst it was turning splendidly 
in the neighbourhood of Nantes, some one in Paris was impeding 
its progress as much as possible. I had gradually become the 
hite noire of my old friend Pasquier. He heartily hated me, 
which was very hard on poor me, who merely despised him. 



PIET-TARDIVEAU 313 

Among the many ways in which he could do me harm, the best 
means was to give the presidency of the Savenay electoral college 
to Bourmont. Bourmont was a native of the district, a valued 
general, the bearer of a celebrated name, and, in spite of some 
censures, had retained many friends. His mission was to over- 
throw the hydra with which the Loire-Inferieure was threaten- 
ing the throne, and to get himself elected in its place. My friend 
De Brosses, then Prefect of Nantes, was inundated with unfavour- 
able memoranda concerning me. Both he and Beaumont were 
in a very embarrassed position, but both conducted themselves 
like men of honour. On October 28, a letter from Dufeugray, 
Sub-Prefect of Savenay, informed me that I had just been 
elected for Savenay by 76 votes out of 116, in succession to the 
Marquis de Coislin, the retiring member.-^ The other 40 
votes went to Beaumont, who very gracefully resigned himself 
and was the first to congratulate me. Poor De Brosses did the 
same. 

The meeting of the Chambers took place on November 5. 
For the first time in my life and at the age of fifty-three I was 
present as an actor. 

Recent events had given the royalists the majority, and after 
six years of the Charter, dupery and disgrace their education 
had advanced considerably. This new majority, well acquainted 
with English customs, took the Charter seriously and determined 
to open the session by overthrowing the ministry if it did not 
anticipate its dismissal. 

There was then in Paris a certain deputy for Mans, named 
Piet, an advocate by profession, a warm royalist, who had become 
the head of a club of royalist deputies, whose meetings and 
dinners were held at his house in the Rue Therese, at the cornet, 
of the Rue Ventadour. One sent him a roe, another a boar's 
head, and a third a truffled turkey. An anonymous purse 
provided for everything else, so that twice a week the honest 
fellow had the pleasure of inviting twenty of his colleagues to a 
very good dinner, at the close of which, under his presidency 
and in his salon, well provided with benches, they formed them- 

1 Pierre Louis du Cambout, Marquis de Coislin (1769-1837), major- 
general and deputy for the Loire-Inferieure, was made a peer of France on 
December 23, 1823.— A.C. 



314 BARON DE FRENILLY 

selves into a miniature Chamber,^ We discussed in advance 
the various questions that were to come before Parhament, drew 
up the orders of the day, voted, and distributed the roles we 
were respectively to play. The decisions to which we came 
formed the mot (Tordre for the whole of the party. 

On November 11 I took Olivier to Saint-Cyr. The military 
school had just sustained a heavy blow, its chief, General 
d'Albignac, a man of talent and character, having been i-eplaced 
by General Obert, who, though a good fellow, was too weak for 
such a position. 

The Chamber began serious work on November 21. Shortly 
afterwards I was appointed a member of the Commission en- 
trusted with the drawing up of the Censorship Bill — the most 
important one of that time. My opinions on the subject of the 
liberty of the Press were known. Pasquier, who thought that I 
was capable of obstructing the bill out of a spirit of opposition 
to himself, got Mezy, who was a member of my committee, to 
sound me on the matter. " Tell Pasquier,'' I replied, " that I 
hate the liberty of the Press so much that I would subject even 
him to the censorship." 

During this session I made two well-received speeches on the 
Press. The Chamber accorded me its favour. I was something 
new, and in France this is always welcomed ; I was already 
known when I arrived and was awaited ; I possessed a rather 
handsome fortune and a good house, where I gave dinners and 
suppers; I had many friends and — a very rare thing among 
deputies — a good social position in Paris ; and, finally, since I 
myself must say it, I combined with recognised talents a lively 
wit, an engaging character and an open heart. 

The Censorship Commission reminds me of an episode Avhich 
is worthy of being recorded. Among the new deputies was a 

1 Piet-Tardiveau (Jean Pierre), born in 1763, died in 1848, deputy for the 
Sarthe from 1815 to 1819 and from 1820 to 1827. Sainte-Beuve judged him 
as follows (Kouveaux Lundis, vol. iv. p. 254): "A certain Piet, a wretched 
advocate, when tamely proposing that the death penalty replace that of 
deportation, naively observed that the difference between the two was, after 
all, very little ; a remark which put the Assembly into a good humour and 
did not prevent the poor wretch from shortly afterwards becoming, thanks 
to his commodious saZo7i, the acknowledged centre and host of all right-minded 
men." t/. Pasquier's Mdmoires, vol. iv. p. 12. — A. 0. 



VICOMTE DE MARTIGNAC 315 

young King's attorney of Limoges, good-looking and graceful, 
who had won the hearts and votes of his compatriots by a 
touching speech on the subject of the birth of the Due de Bor- 
deaux. His name was Martignac. He was more voluble than 
eloquent, a light-hearted man of pleasure, accommodating in 
everything, taking things easily, and seeing the best side of all 
things. These qualifications had obtained for him a seat on the 
Commission to which La Bourdonnaye,^ Bonald and myself 
belonged. Our work called for researches in various archives. 
Martignac came forward and carried out the task very well. 
When the time came to appoint a reporter, and La Bourdon- 
naye being out of the running, Bonald drew me aside and said : 
" Only you or I, as you are aware, have any chance of this 
position. But we don't need these little successes. Now, here's 
a zealous young man ; let us show our appreciation of him by 
giving him our votes." This we did. Martignac was appointed, 
and we thus laid the foundations of his fortune.^ 

1 Fracgois Eegis, Comte de la Bourdonnaye (1767-1839), deputy for the 
Maine-et-Loire, Minister of the Interior in 1829, peer in 1830. He was ever, 
says Pasquier, the most advanced and violent member of his party. — A. 0. 

2 Jean Baptiste Sylvere Gaye, Vicomte de Martignac (1776-1834), deputy 
for the department of the Lot-et-Garonne, and Minister of the Interior from 
January 1828 to July 1829. Frenilly, like Charles X. and the frequenters 
of the Tuileries, regards him as a man of rather poor ability, and the King, 
as we know, said that Martignac was merely a pretty little singing-bird. 
—A. C. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

1822 

The Deputies of the Loire-Inferieure — Mme. du Cayla — The Villele 
Ministry — Death of Fontanes — The La Rochejacqueleins — Chateau- 
briand at Verona — Journey in the Loire-Inferieure — Fetes and 
Banquets — Illness of the Author — Death of M. Mullon de Saint- 
Preux. 

My family returned to Paris about the end of September. Our 
society was increased by a few of my colleagues. Every Satur- 
day morning the Deputies of the Loire-Inferieure — Humbert de 
Sesmaisons, the Marquis de Juigne, Reveliere, and the Vicomte 
de Foucault — met in my study to discuss the general affairs of 
our department. We also admitted to these meetings a certain 
M. de Formont, a Breton, a Master of Requests and very expe- 
rienced in such matters. He was a splendid man, still young, 
lively, hot-headed, and high-minded. The possessor of 600,000 
francs in the West Indies, he had devoted them to the King's 
service during the Hundred Days. These meetings rendered 
great service and were worthy of imitation. Of the members of 
this little committee, only Humbert and Reveliere deserve men- 
tion. The former, an amiable and excellent man, was cheerful, 
frank, witty, chivalrous, and, in spite of his exceeding stoutness, 
both light-footed and graceful. The latter, less favoured as 
regards rank and fortune, was a thin man with a pale face, which 
testified, as he jokingly said, that he had been dead for twenty- 
eight years, that is from the time when, captured in the Vendee 
and sentenced to death, he had been declared decapitated, in an 
official report of which he had an authentic copy.^ 

1 Louis Reveliere (1775-1866) was a member of the Centre and several 
times attacked the speakers on the Left of the Chamber. Of. Pasquier's 
Minioires, vol. v. pp. 103-105. — A. C. 

31^ 



MME. DU CAYLA 317 

In the depths of the Marais quarter there Hved a certain 
Demoiselle Talon, great grand-daughter of the celebrated 
Advocate-General Omer Talon, and the very unhappy wife of 
a sailor, Comte du Cayla, an uncouth bear who neither came 
out nor allowed her to leave his den. I saw her once or twice, 
however, at Mme. de La Briche's Sundays, looking young, 
beautiful, modest and embarrassed. Why her bear of a 
husband should one day want to take away her little ones I 
cannot say. But, at any rate, maternal love prompted her to 
take the bold step of throwing them into the King's arms. She 
brought them to the Tuileries. The King received them, hid 
them, and allowed her to see them in secret. She often saw 
them and the King saw her. He had lost his Narcissus with 
the face and shoulders of a lackey, and although nature had 
exempted him from passion he felt the necessity of little attach- 
ments in partibus. Thus did he and Mme. du Cayla gradually 
become on the most tender terms. She had wit, a taste for 
intrigue and decidedly aristocratic opinions. She gained an 
ascendency to which no one can attribute ill.^ 

On December 15, 1821, the ministry was dismissed. Villele 
received the portfolio of Finance, and Corbiere that of the 
Interior. Mathieu de Montmorency was appointed Minister 
of Foreign Affairs ; Marshal de Bellune, Minister of War ; the 
Marquis de Clermont-Tonnerre, Minister of Marine ; Peyronnet, 
Minister of Justice ; and the Due de Doudeauville, head of the 
King's household. 

The little ministry (such was the name given to the large 
departments formerly called Intendancies-General) was also 
renewed. Becquey and Bouthillier, both deputies, my friends, 
" ultras,'" and of the same leaven as myself, received the Road- 
surveying and Postal Departments ; Saint-Cricq retained the 
Customs until Castelbajac replaced him ; and Benoist, an old 
servant of every regime and now devoted to ours, replaced 
Barante at the Excise office.^ 

An epidemic broke out at Saint-Cyr in March. I hastened 

1 Regarding Mme. du Cayla, see Pasquier's ilfi^moires, yoI. v. pp. 373-375, 
those of Castellane, vol. i. pp. 413, 457-460, and Nauroy's Les Derniers 
Bourbons, pp. 152-158. — A. C. 

2 Pierre Vincent, Comte Benoist (1758-1834), deputy for the Maine-et- 
Loire from 1815 to 1827.— A.C. 



318 BARON DE FRENILLY 

to the school, but was unable to obtain possession of my son. 
In the evening, in the name of all fathers, I wrote to Marshal 
de Bellune, and on the following day the excellent man had 
the whole school transferred to Versailles. The outbreak then 
ceased. 

Instead of resting at Bourneville, I had, on May 17, to go to 
Paris, for Villele, already Prime Minister de facto^ had decided 
on a summer session, in order to put the finances of the country, 
which had been much impaired since the copious bleedings of 
1815, on a sound basis. This dehut was one of his wisest opera- 
tions. It was necessary to be in Paris to settle on this great 
change in advance, so on May 28 he gave a ministerial dinner 
to the most prominent deputies, among whom I had the honour 
to be included. Since the days of Necker and my twenty-first 
year, it was the first time that I had set foot in that magnificent 
Hotel du Controle General, in the Rue Neuve-des-Petits- 
Champs, opposite the Rue des Moulins, with its extensive 
courtyard, noble staircase, high ceilings, solemn and sumptuous 
apartments, and its fine garden between the Rue Sainte-Anne 
and the Rue de Gaillon, under whose ancient trees we walked 
and discussed the coming session like the contemporaries of 
Colbert. Five years later I was to see these beauties changed 
into a vile gallery of shops, and the Hotel des Finances become 
a row of rooms looking on to the Rue de Rivoli. Villele wished 
it so and the King gave his approval. Bonaparte would have 
refused it. France no longer possessed any grandeur. 

Two days later I was at Bourneville, for which I had an 
ardent longing. I was beginning to learn the refrain of public 
men, or who imagine themselves such, who cry 6 rus, and who 
would shout it very much louder if they were always kept in the 
country. 

It was at this period (May 17) that the Due de Richelieu died, 
in a few hours, of brain fever. I have nothing more to say about 
this sorry descendant of the great cardinal, except that he left 
no children, and that his title passed to the son of his youngest 
sister, Mme. de Jumilhac, that crooked doll who could not keep 
her coachmen because she insisted on appearing in an open 
carriage.^ She has just died in Rome, 

1 It is related that one of Mme. de Jumilhac's coachmen, a man with whom 



DEATH OF FRIENDS 319 

Fontanes died a short time before, on March 17. Apart 
from his translation of Pope's Essay on Man, he was only a 
little above the mediocre. His clear and spiritless verses 
were modelled on those of the Abbe Delille — mechanical verses 
such as were made in any quantity at the end of the last 
and the beginning of the present century.-^ His prose was 
much better. 

It was also at this time that poor De Brosses was removed 
from the Prefecture of Nantes. A small and badly repressed 
insurrection had broken out in the town, and Lieutenant- 
General Despinoy, who did not like him, had turned it to his 
disadvantage. Corbiere acted on an angry impulse, but re- 
pented the year following, and appointed De Brosses first to 
Besan^on and then to Lyons, He was succeeded at Nantes 
by my friend Verigny, who was more upright and franker in his 
opinions. 

At the beginning of June I sustained a heavy loss through 
the death of Edward Jerningham and his charming wife, who 
succumbed in London, almost simultaneously, to an infectious 
malady. 

The opening of the Chambers took place on June 4 and the 
new ministry, at our invitation and without opposition, frankly 
took its seat on the right. 

I was put on the Address Committee in company with Bonald, 
Vaublanc, Delalot, Bouville, and Clausel de Coussergues. 

This summer session was a terrible trial to me. Paris was 
deserted. I was alone there, without horses, and the heat was 
terrible. As I detest cabs, I had to cross and recross on foot, 
and with the burning African sun at its height, the extensive 
and scorching Place Louis XV. It was not long before my 
health began to suffer. 

Whilst in this exile, I had the sorrow to lose, one after the 
other, the good and amiable Abbe Seguret, who died on July 4 
at the age of eighty, the amiable wife of President d'Outremont, 

she was very well satisfied, had left her with the explanation : " No, Madame 
la Marquise, I can no longer bear to hear my colleagues say to me : ' There 
you are again, taking your monkey out for a drive I ' " — A. C. 

1 His translation of Pope appeared in 1783. But Frenilly is too severe on 
Fontanes, some of whose verses, according to Sainte-Beuve, "sustain the 
traditions of French poetry." — A. C. 



320 BARON DE FRENILLY 

who had overwhehned me with kindness when I was in London, 
and our venerable friend the Bishop of Amiens. I was also 
grieved to see the first signs of the attack of dropsy which a few 
months later carried my father-in-law to his grave. Finally, 
Mme. de Crisenoy, who, however, interested me very little, 
although she was one of the first companions of my childhood, 
died on August 3 from apoplexy. 

This unpleasant summer — one of the most disagreeable that 
I can remember — brought joy to some people. In July, Mme. 
de Courtebonne, my son-in-law's aunt, married the elder of her 
two charming daughters, Idalie, to the young and wealthy 
Comte de Bourbon-Busset. 

But a more interesting marriage was that of the eldest of the 
La Rochejacquelein girls, celebrated on June 13. There were 
three of them, none of them either pretty or rich. But their 
name was a dowry. Their excellent mother, who describes 
herself in her Memoirs as so frail, so delicate and so stiff when 
she married M. de Lescure, had become, in the midst of her 
misfortunes and the terrible campaigns of the Vendee, as broad 
as she was long, frank, cheerful, lively, natural, and, with her 
large goggle-eyes, almost blind. Her three growing and penni- 
less daughters, and a son who had as yet shown only his father*'s 
impetuosity, which gave promise of his becoming either a hero or 
a fool, were rather a burden to her. It was to this son, then 
still a child, that the King of Prussia, enamoured of the glory of 
La Rochejacquelein's name, sent two candelabra and a sword, 
and which were solemnly presented by his ambassador. This 
was quite enough to turn a young man's head, and as there was 
no Vendee to make him into a hero, he remained a fool. To 
return, however, to the subject of his sister, the son of President 
d'Albertas, owner of the fine estate of Gemenos, between 
Marseilles and Toulon,^ was seized with such a passion for the 
glorious name of La Rochejacquelein that he declared, before he 
had seen any of the girls, he would marry nobody save one of 
them. He came, he saw, he pleased, and he kept his word. 
The King provided a dowry of fifty thousand ecus. 

1 Jean Baptiste Suzanne d'Albertas, born in 1747. died in 1829, was a 
marquis and First President of the Court of Accounts of Provence. He was 
Prefect of the Bouches-du-RLone in 1814 and became a peer in 1815. — A. C. 



THE SPANISH REVOLUTION 321 

As the only object of our vexatious summer session was 
to present the annual budget and vote it in advance of the 
coming financial year, the discussion presented no great 
interest. Melancholy and ill, I did not speak, and, after the 
address and the presentation of the budget, my nonentity 
allowed me to go and rest at Bourneville from June 17 to 
July % 

Let me now say a few words on a matter of international 
interest. The revolution in Spain had outlived its offspring in 
Piedmont and Naples, crushed as they were from the very outset 
by the arms of Austria. Isolated in the Peninsula, this revolu- 
tion, inaccessible to all Powers with the exception of France, 
which remained neutral, and to England, the natural accomplice 
of all foreign discord, was ablaze in Madrid and spreading to the 
towns, thanks to Jacobinism having been grafted on to the 
Spanish people and legitimised by that vile Ferdinand VII., who 
had accepted and afterwards resigned the crown usurped by his 
father, and who, after imprisonment at Valen9ay, had asked Bona- 
parte for a wife of his blood. Austria, Prussia and Russia cried to 
France : " It is your family and blood and power that are in 
question. De te, rex, agitur ! It is your own cause which is 
under examination ; it is beyond the Pyrenees that you must 
destroy the French carbonari" — those carbonari whom the 
Powers had not wished to destroy in France. The Congress of 
Verona met to decide this important question. As we know, 
France was represented by Mathieu de Montmorency, Minister 
of Foreign Affairs, accompanied, at Villele's instigation, by Cara- 
man. La Ferronnays, and Chateaubriand. The last-named was 
Ambassador in London. He was there when the Congress was 
decided upon and assuredly no one had ever thought of him in 
connection with it. His volcanic and changeable mind was so 
unsuitable for the transaction of State affairs that at the time 
when, like conspirators, we were consulting over the division of 
important posts among royalists, he was always forgotten, and 
the general refrain of his friends was : " But what is to be done 
for Chateaubriand ? W^ill he be made a minister ! That is 
impossible ! " The painter of Christianity thought otherwise, 
and all his despatches were filled with complaints. He wanted 
to go to Verona, and complained to so many people that his 

X 



322 BARON DE FRENILLY 

partisans formed a chorus. So, as scrupulous Villele was 
accustomed to say : 

" Ne nous brouillons jamais avec les grands braillards," 

instead of saying to the complainer : " Remain where you are ! "" 
and to his friends " Hold your tongues ! " he sent Chateaubriand 
to Verona to take the part of fifth wheel to the coach. 

Chateaubriand fell on Verona like a bomb. He was received 
with as much pleasure and was about as useful ; in other words, 
he did nothing. A useless and superfluous figure, but noisy and 
indiscreet, he met everywhere with literary praise and diplomatic 
distrust. The meetings were either secret or, when he was 
present, vague ; resolutions were passed without him ; he simply 
signed protocols, and his mission resulted in nothing else than 
the casting of ridicule on French diplomacy. This is what 
Mathieu de Montmorency told me. After this, read Chateau- 
briand's book ; read that short story or that poem entitled, 
Le Congres de Verone, without shrugging your shoulders, and 
then try to believe that it was the author who brought about 
the intervention of Spain. That, however, is the twaddle which 
posterity will believe ! 

On August 16, at the close of the summer session, I returned 
to Bourneville, where I rested and recruited until September 4. 
Meanwhile, my wife went to Paris to nurse her father. 

In the previous year I had sworn by the Styx to visit in 1822 
my electors of the Loire-Inferieure. The session being over, the 
time had arrived. The only obstacle was my health, and I took 
care not to make this excuse to my electors. Moreover, I hoped 
that the journey and diversions would complete my conva- 
lescence, and in this I was not deceived. On September 6, in 
perfect weather, I set off in a calash with a little groom named 
Jean. The first evening I slept at Chartres and the second at 
Mans, where I received a visit from the Prefect, M. du Nugent. 
The third night I dined at Angers with good Mme. de La 
Hussaudiere, and on the 9th at Nantes with Verigny. As to my 
inn, I had called upon my colleague Reveliere, but found him 
away from home, so Lauriston, my friend and his neighbour, 
prepared a very pretty lodging for me at his house, the finest in 
Nantes. 



VISIT TO MY ELECTORS 323 

Reveliere returned on the following day, which was spent in 
completing my acquaintanceship with the notabilities of Nantes, 
in seeing Monneron, my wife's cousin, his cousin Bernier de 
Maligny, the excellent Herve de la Bauche, and the amiable 
Vicomte Walsh, a descendant of those who had followed James II. 
into exile and sacrificed their fortune for him. This exceedingly 
handsome man had preserved the English type of face in an 
astonishing manner. He was witty, cheerful, original, frank 
and open, bringing life and amusement wherever he went. 
He was the friend and comrade of Humbert, Herve and 
Lauriston.^ 

On September 11, Reveliere gave me a grand luncheon, in 
company with Verigny, Herve, Humbert, Walsh, and a man 
whom I had a great desire to know — the celebrated Abbe of 
La Trappe, Pere Antoine, the most amiable of guests and most 
rigid of Trappists.^ 

Hardly had we left the table when Humbert de Sesmaisons 
declared that he had come merely with the object of carrying 
me off with him. He then occupied a country house called the 
Dainerie, two leagues from Nantes, on the banks of the Erdre, 
where he had left very good company. His waggonette was at 
the door, so, after arranging that I should begin the tour of my 
constituency on the 15th, accompanied by him, Walsh and 
Reveliere, we set off. 

After spending a night at the Dainerie, Humbert and I 
returned to dine on the 12th with thirty Bretons at Verigny's. 
On the 13th there was a grand luncheon at the Castel de la 
Rivaudiere, the chateau of my son-in-law's uncle, the very good 
and original Baron de Pimodan, a major-general.^ 

But this charming spot was three leagues from Nantes, and 
hardly had we exchanged compliments, seen the gardens and 

1 Joseph Alexis, Vicomte Walsh (1782-1860), postmaster at Nantes under 
the Kestoration, journalist at the time of the July monarchy, and the author 
of a number of works on Brittany and the Vendee. — A. C. 

2 See G. Lenotre's interesting paper on Baron de Geramb in Vieillesmaisons 
vieux papiers, second series, pp. 75-98, translated into English under the title 
Bo7rMncesoftheFrenchEevolution(WiU.iam.lieinemann:'London). — Translatoe. 

3 Armand Charles de Rarecourt de La Vallee, Baron de Pimodan, married, 
at Nantes, in 1801, Jeanne de Goyon. This marriage caused him to take up 
his permanent residence in Brittany, where his descendants are still to be 
found. — A. C. 



324 BARON DE FRENILLY 

lunched when it was necessary to return post haste for a gala 
dinner at General Despinoy's. 

The morning of the 14th was given up to Monneron, the 
evening to Walsh, and the remainder of the day to returning 
some of the hundred visits that I had received. On the follow- 
ing day we at last began our tour. Humbert and I travelled 
in the waggonette ; Walsh and Reveliere in my calash. We 
entered the chief town of my constituency at noon. . . . Alas ! 
must I own to it ? Apart from the rumbling of our carriage 
wheels all was silence ! This showed me that Savenay must 
have given few votes at the time of my election, that, like many 
small towns in Brittany, it had remained faithful to the Re- 
volution, and that I made my entry there rather as a conqueror 
than as its legitimate prince. Fortunately my staff and I were 
expected at the house of the Sub-Prefect, good little Dufeugray, 
a Norman grafted on to a Breton and a royalist of the purest 
water. He gave us a magnificent luncheon. 

We were awaited at Guerande, the Faubourg Saint-Germain 
of my constituency and where there was not a house that was 
not aristocratic. On entering we found the streets adorned 
with white flags and the crowd full of indescribable enthusiasm. 

I began to see that every eminent man ought, like the horse, 
to have four stomachs. But I was by no means at the end of 
the banqueting and had still much indigestion to bear. At 
Croisic, where we were received in the same manner as at 
Guerande, we had to pretend to lunch, in the midst of the 
salterns, at Yviquel's, a salt-maker of the Sesmaisons family, an 
elector, and the chief man of the canton. 

After this we had to pass incognito and as rapidly as possible 
under the walls of Guerande en route for Donatien de Sesmaison''s, 
at the Chateau de Lesnerac, where Walsh, his friend and, in his 
absence, master of the house, had given orders for the prepara- 
tion of dinner and beds worthy of us. 

I was back again in Nantes on September 23. Before return- 
ing home I had a desire to visit the Trappe de la Meilleraye and 
the famous Bocage that Barante, when he was a royalist and 
Prefect of the Vendee, had described so well in Mme. de La 
Rochejacquelein"'s Memoirs. But my health ordered otherwise. 
For three weeks I had been tracked by fever, but without it 



ILLNESS 825 

overtaking me, such was the speed at which I had travelled. 
However, after a grand dinner at the Marquis de Monty's, a 
luncheon in the country at Lauriston's, in the midst of torrents 
of rain, and the delivery of speeches to the common herd, it 
gained a complete victory in three days. An excellent doctor 
named Blin, an amiable, witty aristocrat who was the friend of 
all of us, came to see me four times a day and declared that I 
had got marsh fever. The whole town, if not in my bedroom, 
was in attendance at my residence, and I still feel grateful for 
the touching marks of affection that were then bestowed upon 
me. Lauriston, accompanied by his sweet and charming wife, 
returned from the country ; Reveliere and his wife, Humbert, 
Walsh, Herve, and Monneron looked after me as though I had 
been a brother ; whilst Verigny wanted to take me to his house 
to be nursed by his daughters. Never was a sick man happier 
than I was. In spite of my happiness, however, I could not 
write for four days — I who regularly wrote a letter every day ; 
and the first that I produced was so short and scrawled in such 
a manner that, after a silence of four days, it was calculated to 
stir a less lively imagination than that of my poor wife, then 
at the bedside of her sick father. I, in turn, remained for three 
days without receiving a reply. On the morning of the fourth, 
when I was sitting up, convalescent, in my study, Humbert, 
who was standing at the window, said : " Halloo ! here''s a berlin 
crossing the square at full gallop." " A green one ? " I asked. 
" Yes." " Then it is my wife ! " And she it was sure enough, 
I felt so happy that I had not the heart to scold her. That 
would, indeed, have been a good time to die. For I should 
have been buried in the midst of the affection of my family and 
of the public — buried, after the accomplishment of useful work, 
in the midst of glory. 

It was during my gentle recovery that my wife received the 
news of her father's death. I regretted that she had not been 
there to close his eyes, but she had followed the commandment 
of the Gospel and had nothing with which to reproach herself. 

We left Nantes as soon as I was able to bear the fatigue of 
travel. This was on October 15 — too soon, I think, for the 
slightest jolt of the carriage caused me to have intolerable head- 
aches. We had then to stop, and thus we travelled by very 



826 BARON DE FRENILLY 

short stages. It was not until the 21st that we reached Paris, 
where, on the following day, I had to submit to a consultation 
between Moreau and Dupuytren. A month^s rest at Bourne- 
ville completed my recovery. My family returned to Paris at 
the end of December. 



CHAPTER XIX 

1823 

Vill^le — Expedition into Spain — The Due d'Angouleme and Martignac 
— The Andujar Decree — Baron de Damas — Olivier leaves Saint-Cyr 
— The Septennial Chamber. 

On December 25, 1822, Mathieu de Montmorency had resigned 
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and, to the amazement of the 
public, in spite of the King's hatred, and as proof of Villele's 
respect for the power of the Press, was succeeded by Chateau- 
briand. Let me, therefore, say a few words on foreign affairs, 
after writing at such length on my own. 

The Spanish Revolution, modelled on that of France, made 
gigantic progress. Ever since a royalist ministry had come 
into power, a year ago, Europe and France had awaited power- 
ful intervention in favour of the Spanish royalty. But nothing 
had been done, and the public became daily more and more dis- 
contented to see the Government persist in adopting a neutral 
and almost hostile attitude towards the Crown of Spain. 
Matters had progressed as far even as the seizure by the cus- 
toms authorities on the frontier of arms intended for Biscay, 
where there was a counter-movement to the revolution. A cry 
of rage went up against Saint-Cricq, who, after all, had merely 
carried out Villele's orders. Villele, who possessed neither the 
qualities nor even the ideas of a statesman, was without doubt 
the best financier that France had had since Colbert. He 
performed wonders in this respect, but deserved to be credited 
with no other merits than those of order, financial exactitude, 
and economy. A man of fastidious character and mathematical 
mind, he concentrated all his attention on the State money- 
chest, on our recent financial disasters, and on the necessity for 

327 



328 BARON DE FRENILLY 

repairing them by order and economy. He felt, therefore, an 
insurmountable repugnance for war, and in this respect he ad- 
mirably carried out his duty as public treasurer. But he was 
President of the Council, a universal minister, and he ought to 
have risen to the occasion by sacrificing financial calculations to 
considerations of a higher order. This is what he did not and 
never would understand. And so, when intervention came, it 
was a victory gained over him by the public, by Monsieur's 
influence, and by a royalist majority at the 1822 elections. 
Nevertheless, Villele did not give way until the last moment, 
and the hasty measures that were taken caused, later, all the 
difficulties and scandals of that war. 

The speech from the throne seemed, in compensation for past 
torpor, to wish to surpass public enthusiasm. People still re- 
member the storm of applause and cries of " Vive le Roi ! " 
which burst forth in the two Chambers when the King, in a 
martial voice, announced that an army of one hundred thousand 
men was about to enter Spain under the leadership of the Due 
d'Angouleme. 

The duke left on March 15. We know how he progressed at 
first — how many mines were sprung against him by the car- 
bonari in conjunction with the exaltados of Madrid, how stores 
that had been declared full were found empty, how everywhere 
roguery was united with malevolence, and both went unpunished; 
and we know also of the Due de Bellune's hurried journey, his 
disagreement with the Due d'Angouleme, his return, and his 
resignation. Nothing had ever equalled the disorder of this 
debut. The Due d'Angouleme was not the man that was 
wanted. He knew how to march at the head of a column 
of grenadiers, but that was all ; and although he possessed a 
brave heart he had the mentality of a linnet, and, what was 
worse both for Spain and France, that of a philosophical linnet. 
As he was necessarily obliged to play a political role in Spain, 
they felt themselves bound to give him a strong-minded man as 
adviser. Whom did they choose ? Risum teneatis ! Martignac ! 
the pretty little Martignac whom Bonald had helped into the 
saddle. 

This same month of March, Comte Armand de Durfort ^ suc- 

1 Armand C61este de Durfort, major-general since September 14, 1814. — A. C. 



THE SPANISH EXPEDITION 329 

ceeded the good but weak General Obert as commander of 
Saint-Cyr. 

I had reached my second session (the summer one I did not 
count) and had no desire to be included in the Chamber among 
those universal geniuses who, in order to save themselves the 
trouble of learning something thoroughly, speak on every sub- 
ject under the sun. I recognised that it was necessary to be a 
practical man, so, as I had been born with a faculty for adminis- 
tration, I followed my vocation by devoting myself particularly 
to finance, a subject that was at once practical and boundless, 
since everything was related to the budget. In the course of 
the winter I made two good speeches, which brought me, in the 
following year, the position of Reporter to the Budget. 

In May we returned to Bourneville, and in August we 
received there a visit from Lauriston, accompanied by a 
Mr. Blunt, an English Catholic and friend of Pere Antoine, 
whom he had assisted in founding the Trappist monastery in 
England. 

Cesar de Chastellux, Leonce and Ludovic de Rosambo were 
in Catalonia, with the corps commanded by Baron de Damas. 
AiFairs in Spain were drawing to a close. The only resistance 
that the French army had encountered was that of a few hun- 
dred French carbonari, who had the impudence to dispute the 
passage of the Bidasoa. A cannon-shot had sufficed to scatter 
this rabble, and from there to Cadiz the march of the army, 
which was everywhere feted, had been a triumphal one. When 
driven out of Madrid by our troops, the Cortes had taken 
Ferdinand to Cadiz. We followed him there, as far as Leon 
Island, which the Trocadero fight had delivered into our hands. 
He was then handed over to us. 

It was at this time that the infamous Andujar Decree* was 
issued in the name of the Due d'Angouleme. Thus the French, 
who had crossed the Pyrenees to re-establish the Spanish 
monarchy, found that in doing so they had strengthened its 
enemies, that they had rendered the Peninsula the baleful 
service which they themselves had formerly received from the 

1 This decree, dated August 8, authorised the French commanders to 
release all unduly arrested persons and to take the offenders into custody. 
—A. C. 



330 BARON DE FRENILLY 

kings of Europe ! A cry of horror went up from Cadiz to 
Irun. It was echoed in France and over the whole of Europe. 
Villele was furious. Louis XVIII. declared the decree null ; and 
it was necessary to do so, for this ordinance would have caused 
the whole of Spain to have risen against the army which it had 
welcomed with so much joy. It was. moreover, absolutely void 
in itself, for the general of an army allied to Ferdinand had 
certainly no right to make laws in his kingdom. On leaving 
Cadiz, Ferdinand VII. received very coldly the homage of the 
man who, whilst saving the King, was destroying the monarchy. 
To this huge blunder the pitiful commander-in-chief added 
that of attacking, with unjust and inconsiderate hatred, the 
loyal Marshal de Bellune, going as far as saying that he should 
not return to France until the Ministry of War had been taken 
from him. But he did not obtain this sacrifice, so, on his 
return, took his revenge by refusing to see him. Satisfied with 
this honourable resistance, Bellune, some time afterwards, in 
October, resigned and addressed a letter and memorial, justi- 
fying his conduct, to the Due d''Angouleme, who refused to 
read them. The outraged marshal replied to this affront by 
returning to the King all his orders and resigning all his posts. 
This proud action was heartily approved by the public, and 
Bellune retired to his small house in the Rue d'Anjou with 
the approbation and regret of all upright men. I continued 
to see him from time to time in his retreat, where I was well 
received by his good and beautiful wife. He was succeeded at 
the Ministry by Baron de Damas, whose brow was still freshly 
crowned with Spanish laurels.^ 

[ At the baths of IsCHL (Upper Austria), September 13, 1842. 
On October 2, 1823, I withdrew Olivier from Saint-Cyr. His 
two years' course was at an end. He left the school as sub- 
lieutenant, with a good number, but it was still necessary for 
him to pass through a cavalry school. This, however, was not 
yet organised, and, awaiting its establishment at Versailles, he 

1 Ange Hyacinthe Maxence, Baron de Damas (1786-1862), lieutenant- 
general in 1815, Minister of War, then Minister of Foreign Affairs, in which 
capacity, says Pasquier, he showed insuflaciency, peer in 1823, and, after the 
death of the Due de Eivi^re, tutor to the Due de Bordeaux. — A. C. 



MY SON OLIVIER 381 

was returned to me for three months. I took him with me to 
Bourneville on October 5. My wish was that he sliould enter 
the diplomatic service. Talaru, who had been appointed by 
Chateaubriand to the Spanish Embassy, was about to leave for 
his post, and I had an idea that, through our friendship — I 
might almost say complicity — he would willingly take my son 
to Madrid. It was not on my friend's side that I expected 
difficulties ; the obstacles were raised by my son. If, at eighteen 
years of age, such a chance had been offered to me, I should 
have jumped at it. But Olivier refused. He had acquired an 
honourable taste for a military career. So we had to give way 
and enrol him among that crowd of heroes, then so common, 
whose sole vocation was, in reality, that of doing nothing. 
Another attempt met with no better success. Whether you are 
an ambassador, a magistrate or a soldier, there is a profession 
which, if you have been born with anything, you cannot escape 
— that of a property-owner. You must know how to ad- 
minister, increase and defend your own. Now, my son could 
have found under the paternal roof a complete course of in- 
struction in these matters. I suggested the idea to him, but, 
like the first, it was rejected. I then saw that he had no more 
inclination for home affairs than public ones. Consequently, 
about the end of September, he entered a somewhat ridiculous 
cavalry school that had been improvised at Versailles under the 
superintendence of the Chevalier de Brossard.-^ 

The project of making the Chamber of Deputies septennial 
was taken in hand in October. The public — by which I mean 
those who respect order and peace — received the idea favourably 
and its success was assured. 

On December 24, a decree dissolved the Chamber and con- 
voked a new one. All the presidencies of the electoral colleges 
were given to members of the Right, which was, at least, frank 
and logical. 

This unexpected little revolution completely changed my 
political position and threatened to bring about a premature 

1 Olivier, Baron de Frenilly, resigned in 1830, lived a good deal abroad, and 
died on August 10, 1852, at Venice. He married the Comtesse Sophie 
Rosalie Larisch-Moenich, in Austria, and had no issue. He was an amiable, 
witty man, with an artistic temperament. — A. C. 



332 BARON DE FRENILLY 

divorce between myself and that Breton constituency which had 
so joyfully elected me, and to which I was united by so many 
sympathies. However, I was certain of election at Beauvais, 
where the entire college had promised me its votes. I set off, 
therefore, for Paris, to come to an arrangement about Beauvais 
with Villele and Corbiere, and accepted the presidency of Cler- 
mont, seeing that that of the chief town had to be given to 
Kergorlay. 

Such was the state of affairs. I had received a hundred fare- 
well letters from my dear Bretons and a hundred invitations 
and promises from my dear friends at Beauvais, and was on the 
point of leaving Bourneville for my presidency in the Oise, when 
the Moniteur, containing the list of nominations for the presi- 
dencies, arrived. Judge of my astonishment at seeing my name 
opposite the arrondissement of Savenay ! Was it an error or a 
treacherous blow ? Was their object to insult me by sending 
me to preside in Brittany at the election of Coislin ? Twenty 
thoughts flashed through my mind, and I was about to send in 
my refusal to Corbiere when, glancing at the end of the ordi- 
nance, I saw the creation of twenty-seven peers, including the 
Marquis de Coislin. All was well, therefore. He became a 
peer and I again became a Breton. 

I had then been working for a month on my book on sep- 
tennial duration, and it was published on the day on which the 
new Chamber met. 



CHAPTER XX 

1824 

The Chamber — Oasimir Perier — Benjamin Constant — Bourrienne — 
The Report on the Budget — Conversion of the Rentes — Dismissal of 
Chateaubriand — Reconstruction of the Ministry — The author 
appointed a Counsellor of State — Death of Louis XVIII. — The 
funeral — Charles X. — Death of Mme. de Pimodan. 

The elections had been so universally favourable to the royalists 
that only nineteen Liberals were returned, among them being 
Stanislas de Girardin, Casimir Perier, Foy, Mechin, Benjamin 
Constant and Sebastiani. Lafayette was defeated at Meaux, 
and poor Vitrolles, whom no party liked and who was Villele's 
hete noire, could not succeed in getting himself elected in 
Provence. 

The new Chamber met on March 23. Ravez was once more 
elected president. The benches on the Left were so deserted 
and those oil the Right and in the Centre so terribly crowded 
that some of us were obliged to occupy the seats usually filled 
by the opposition. I was one of the first of these, and took my 
seat on the lowest bench, next to Casimir Perier, who sat there 
alone, as solitary as an antique column in a desert. He was a 
good fellow, but possessed a head like a volcano, which smoked 
incessantly and sometimes threw out sparks. I rather liked him 
because he was sincere in his folly, and at the same time witty, 
without being spiteful, and because, when he was not boiling 
over, he listened to reason and even spoke accordingly. If 
Louis XVIII. had taken it into his head to make him a minister, 
he would have worked faithfully for the monarchy and per- 
haps better than another. I put up very well, therefore, with 
his proximity. But, as a balance to this good fortune, I had 

333 



334 BARON DE FRENILLY 

at my back, on the second bench, the only person in the 
chamber, and, indeed, in the whole of France who ever inspired 
me with a sort of instinctive aversion, bordering on disgust and 
repugnance. I refer to Benjamin Constant with his pale and 
hideous face, full of cruelty, impudence, hatred and envy, the 
perfect analogy of his mind and speeches. I felt but scorn 
for that solemn clown Foy, but hilarity for that stout fool 
Girardin, and but indifference towards the others, but Benjamin 
Constant was to me such a venomous reptile that there, where 
friends and enemies mixed together, he was never able to obtain 
from me either word or look. 

Everything progressed smoothly. The important Septennial 
Bill, which had been foreseen and welcomed by all, was passed 
without opposition. 

I was appointed a member of the Budget Committee. It 
chose me as its secretary, but I evaded this fatiguing post, being 
then unaware that this honour was always conferred on the one 
who was to draw up the report. On my refusal, the secretary- 
ship was given to the celebrated Bourrienne, first the comrade, 
then the tool, and lastly the enemy of Bonaparte — the man 
whose ignoble face everybody has seen or whose amusing Memoirs 
they have read. He was, however, a jolly fellow — heedless, 
witty, burdened with little morality and less esteem, and who 
had gained friends when on his Hamburg mission by betraying 
Bonaparte for the Bourbons, and who was intriguing in Paris 
whilst squandering the remainder of his fortune and that of 
others. My refusal, although more impertinent than I imagined, 
neither offended nor rebuffed the Committee, which, when its 
work was over, unanimously appointed me reporter. 

The preparation of my report occupied me six weeks, from 
six in the morning until midnight, and I believe that it was 
considered to be the best financial statement that had yet been 
drawn up. Such as it was, however, it almost set me at variance 
with Villele and Baron de Damas. 

The finances of the country were in such a prosperous condi- 
tion and credit was so general that there had been a progressive 
fall in interest. Four per cent, had become usual in all important 
business operations ; treasuiy bonds and various other stocks of 
the floating debt were negotiated even at 3| ; and the Govern- 



FALL IN INTEREST 335 

ment consignment office paid only 3. On the other hand, the 
royal treasury, in the case of Rentes inscribed in the public 
ledger, always paid on the basis of 5 per cent. Now, whether 
one considered the Ministry of Finance as the debtor of the 
Rentes or as the guardian of the taxpayers whose taxes paid 
these Rentes, nothing, on the one hand, was more equitable, or, 
on the other, more politic, than to relieve the payer without 
injuring the rights of the one paid. The method of doing this 
was simple, and England had set us many examples ; it was to say 
to the latter : " Choose either the reimbursement of your capital 
or the reduction of your interest." Government stock was then 
below par, consequently, on the one hand, new lenders would 
immediately have come forward in the case of a reimbursement, 
and, on the other, nobody would have wanted their money 
reimbursing. 

But what had been thought out with wisdom was spoilt by a 
blunder. Villele, paternally occupied over the interests of the 
people who pay, took not the slightest trouble to take into 
account those of the people who are paid. In reducing an 
annuity of more than two hundred millions, he acted as though 
he had merely to deal with two thousand creditors each possessed 
of an income of one hundred thousand francs. But he forgot 
that Paris alone contained fifty, nay a hundred thousand arti- 
sans, shopkeepers, employees, and retired servants who lived on 
the savings of a lifetime invested in Government stock — people 
to whom the reduction of a fifth of their interest would mean 
deprivation, and who would in no way be indemnified by a 
reduction in taxation. He forgot that, to be able to act with 
entire freedom, he ought first of all to neutralise this army by 
excepting its hundred thousand little annuities from the action 
of his Bill for the conversion of the Rentes. I was so convinced 
of this necessity that I almost went down on my knees to get 
Villele to make an exception in the case of those with less than 
500 francs income. But, as usual, I found him inflexible. " I 
will not make an exception even in the case of a Rente of ten 
francs," he said ; and he continued on his way. The bill came 
before the Chamber and was reluctantly but nevertheless passed. 
Villele triumphed. For a month past, however, the Press had 
daily been instructing Paris fuid the provinces, and already there 



336 BARON DE FRENILLY 

arose a cry of : " The Deputies have betrayed the people ; our 
only hope is in the House of Peers ! " The Upper Chamber 
was glad to get an opportunity of making itself popular and 
of affronting the insolent Commons whose Acts it annually 
merely countersigned. So ministers, directors and counsellors 
shouted themselves hoarse in vain. Only Chateaubriand's sly 
silence made an impression. On the eve of the ballot, the dis- 
appointed Villele thought that he could save his Bill by making 
that exception in the case of small stockholders which two 
months before would have made him an object of extreme 
regard. But it was then too late ; the Peers threw out the Bill. 
Such was Villele's first defeat — a great one, since it brought him 
many enemies, discouraged his friends, and showed that he 
could be attacked and conquered. 

Soon afterwards came another event that was again an ex- 
ample of stupid justice — a much more regrettable thing than 
skilful injustice. Chateaubriand had become rather popular. To 
his duties as Minister of Foreign Affairs he had added those of 
looking after the private affairs of Mme. Boni de Castellane, of 
whom he was the by no means secret admirer. When this lady 
sold her Saint-Pierre de Moustier estate for 1,800,000 francs, 
he could think of nothing better than to advise her to invest the 
money in the Spanish Cortes loan. Afterwards, when Ferdinand, 
replaced on the throne by Louis XVIII., very wisely refused to 
recognise this revolutionary loan, Chateaubriand, seeing his 
friend ruined, could again think of nothing better than to in- 
struct Talaru to put his foot down and force the Spanish monarch 
to do what was wanted. Talaru carried out his commission so 
faithfully that the King, perplexed and irritated, wrote secretly 
to Louis XVIII. to ask if it were really he — he who had set him 
on the throne again and annulled the Andujar Decree — who had 
given orders that he should ruin himself and his subjects in order 
to enrich the revolutionaries of Spain, and help forward future 
revolutions. I have not seen this letter, but I know from a per- 
son who has read it that it was as touching as it was noble and 
judicious. Both the King and Villele were irritated ; and 
Chateaubriand's perfidious silence in the Rentes affair was the 
last straw. ^ 

1 The anecdote ie also told by Marmont (Mivwires, vol. vii. book xxii.). — A. C. 



JOHN FRASER FRISELL 337 

The poor man — I refer to Chateaubriand — had, as usual, 
thrown himself into a hole and now did all he could to get out 
of it. On June 5 he closeted me in his salon in order to say : 
" Villele bears me a grudge for not having supported him. He 
gives me the cold shoulder, but he''s wrong in doing so. I was so 
hoarse that I could not speak. My only desire is to do what he 
wishes, and I have never done anything else." On the following 
day he went to the meeting of the Council and found the order 
to give up his portfolio. He was dismissed. Had he lived in 
former days he would have been exiled and not a word would have 
been said. But the cry went up : "A minister dismissed ! A great 
man like Chateaubriand shown to the door ! And why ? For 
not supporting a Bill that would have ruined the poor people ! '" 
The fact is that the King made a mistake by acting in anger, 
and that under the regime of his Charter and the newspapers 
the rule should have been to break gently rather than suddenly. 

This dismissal was enlivened by a somewhat amusing episode. 
I was on fairly good terms with Chateaubriand, who thought 
that I was a great friend of Villele, so, on the following day, I 
went to see him at his house in the Rue de PUniversite. I found 
him with Frisell, a frenchified Englishman, the author of an 
excellent pamphlet on the English Constitution, a man of heavy 
intellect, a curious, eccentric fellow who fancied he was ill, and 
who was enough of an intriguer to have got a slight reputation 
in Paris for espionnage, which led to him being little sought 
after. He was constantly with Chateaubriand, who rather 
gladly domineered over a company of men of his kidney.^ I 
arrived with words of consolation. The ex-minister was pre- 
tending to be neither a Roman nor a Spartan; he was exceedingly 
downcast. The money question troubled him so much that, 
after bitterly complaining of man''s ingratitude, he said to me : 
" Ifs all over ; you will see that they will not leave me even 
my salary as a minister of State." This was twenty thousand 
francs. 

On hearing him say this I exclaimed that the thing was 
impossible — that they would never be so sordidly harsh. " You 
don't know them," he replied. " They will undoubtedly take it 

1 In regard to the Scotchman John Fraser Frisell, see an article by J. 
Fraser in Le Correspondant for September 25, 1897. — ^A. C. 

T 



338 BARON DE FRl^NILLY 

away from me.'" And with these words the matter was dropped 
and I thought no more about it. But, on the following day, I 
received a visit from Frisell, who, as though I had been Villele 
in person, came to sound me on the subject of this wretched 
salary. I again expressed my opinion, but he would not leave 
me until he had extracted a promise that I would see Villele 
and ward off the blow. The step was distasteful to me, but as 
Chateaubriand was in a state of mortal anxiety I went to see 
the President of the Council and told him everything. As 1 
expected, he laughed in my face and said : " Do you really 
believe that the King is capable of such a mean action ? " Quite 
satisfied, I returned home and wrote a rapid note announcing 
the success of my mission. Whilst carrying it out, however, 
other negotiations had been entered into between Chateaubriand 
and Ladvocat, the publisher. He had signed a contract, sold 
his pen, and received thirty or forty thousand francs on account ; 
and two days afterwards we read in the papers a noble and proud 
declaration in which the ex-minister refused his salary ! 

This first change in the Ministry was followed somewhat 
rapidly by several others. Baron de Damas left the Ministry of 
War for that of Foreign Affairs ; the Marquis de Clermont- 
Tonnerre left the Ministry of Marine for that of War, and 
Chabrol the Customs Department — where he was replaced by 
little Martignac — for the Ministry of Marine. As to other 
departments, Vaulchier drove Mezy from the Post Office, 
Bouthillier obtained the Woods and Forests, and Becquey, 
the Road-surveying Department. All honest men were placed 
in the most favourable position for carrying out their education, 
for not one of them was acquainted with his duties. The per- 
manent chefs de bureau governed ; the ministers and directors 
were their pupils. Only two exceptions must be made : Franchet 
and Lavau, the former Director-General of the French Police, the 
latter Prefect of Police for Paris, both of them saints who reigned 
over devils and carried out their administrative work admirably.* 

1 Franchet d'Esperey (1778-1853), imprisoned at Sainte-Pelagie under the 
Empire (1811-1814), secretary at the Vienna Congress, chief of the staff at 
the Ministry of Posts (1816), and Director of the Police (1821). Guy de 
Lavau (1788-1874), Counsellor to the Court (1814) and Prefect of Police 
(November 20, 1821). Both were proposed by Mathieu de Montmorency and 



DEATH OF LOUIS XVIII 339 

The session closed on August 4 and we returned to Bourne- 
ville. The same month I was appointed a Counsellor of State. 
My progress had certainly been rapid : at the first step I had 
attained the highest rank dreamed of in my youth. It is true 

that I could echo the words of M , who, showing his bald 

head to Louis XIV., said : " Sire, the matter is urgent." I was 
fifty-six years of age. This seat on the State Council was in 
accord with my character, with the ensemble of my life and 
conduct, with my position in society, with my fortune, and, 
finally, with the somewhat exaggerated consideration which the 
public then accorded me. But my articles in the Conservateur^ two 
or three good speeches, my financial report, and Villele's friend- 
ship had done more than anything else. People approved, I 
believe, of the appointment, and so did I. But we were both 
wrong, for, contrary to my expectations, I made a very poor 
Counsellor of State. 

The King died on September 16. For three days before his 
end, he had daily been wheeled from his study to his carriage, 
which then took him at full speed, thanks to forty horses 
divided into four or five relays, over a distance of fifteen to 
twenty leagues. He retained his faculties until the last. When 
it was proposed that he should receive the sacrament, he 
replied, " No, on Wednesday ; I shall not die until Thursday." 
On the royal family leaving the room, after his eyes had been 
closed, the Duchesse d'Angouleme, who, as a King's daughter, 
had always had precedence over her husband, stepped aside 
at the door and said to him : " Pass, Monsieur le Dauphin.'' 

Louis XVIII.'s body was immediately opened and covered 
with chloride of lime, the continual renewal of which barely 
allowed the removal of the intestines and the embalmment, 
which, it is said, was rather badly done. 

Thus ended the life of a King who had been received by his 
people with joy, and who had been sent by God in his anger. 
This royal comedian, ever in costume and ever acting, had 
nothing genuine about him but his cold and sceptical egoism ; 
under his dogmatic exterior, he possessed a narrow and insincere 

were "most ardent members of the Congregation." (Pasquier's Memcdres. 
voL V. p. 420). See also G. de Grandmaison's La Congregation, pp. 152-159 
and 343-347.— A. 0. 



340 BARON DE FRENILLY 

mind, an immeasurable pride, and a veneration for the wise man 
who deigned to wear the crown. He was born to be a wit of 
average abiUty, a writer of little verses after the manner of 
Horace, and of second-rate prose after the manner of Sterne, 
a leader in manners and fashion, a philosophical duke or 
marquis of the eighteenth century, enthroned as one of the 
Forty. Fate (for Providence must be exonerated from blame). 
Fate, in one of those moments of abstraction to which Beau- 
marchais refers when he says : 

. . . L'erreur d'un moment 
Pent rendre un si^cle miserable, 

ordained that he should be born in the midst of grandeur, on 
the dawn of revolutions, and on the second step of a tottering 
throne. Contemporaries recollect the contempt and hatred 
which was heaped upon him as a vainglorious fugitive of the 
monarchy. He thus foreshadowed his future reign, and on 
coming to the throne after twenty-four years of exile it could 
be said of him much more justly than of the Emigres that he 
had neither learnt nor forgotten anything. To a nation that 
had been crushed by the Convention and Bonaparte to the 
lowest degree of servitude and which merely asked, in its joy, 
to recover, as England did after the time of Cromwell, its 
ancient institutions rid of a few abuses, he threw an English 
Charter — the plaything of his amour-prcypre and of a few 
intriguing visionaries. Heaven appeared to wish to save him 
from himself by giving him, as in the case of Charles II, , a 
wholly monarchical parliament ; but, whereas Charles II., a 
weak and frivolous egoist, saved himself by placing the govern- 
ment in the hands of a parliament that was working only for 
him, Louis XVIII., a conceited egoist and doctrinaire, ruined 
himself by destroying a parliament whose sole object was to 
re-establish the throne. At the instigation of a plebeian fop 
one of Bonaparte's riffraff and his mother''s valet,^ he shattered 
in a day the instrument of his salvation, buried the monarchy 
under his Charter, and undermined the reign of his successor. 
The King's death had been expected so soon that, on leaving 

1 Decazes was a private secretary in the household of Napoleon's mother. 
—A. C, 



CHARLES X 341 

Paris (it was then, I believe, holiday time), I had arranged with 
Castelbajac for a courier to be sent to Bourneville as soon as 
the event had taken place. At one o'clock in the morning of 
September 17, my first sleep was broken into by lights and my 
servant, who shouted through the door : " Monsieur, there's 
nothing the matter ; it is only the King who is dead." To order 
horses, dress, and set off was the work of but half »n hour. I 
reached the Rue du Marche d'Aguesseau at nine o'clock ; at ten 
I was in my deputy's dress, and at eleven I reached Saint-Cloud, 
where the new King — the King of my heart — had withdrawn. 

I made a mistake in not preferring the dress of the Council of 
State, which was an integral part of the royal household and 
always admitted the first. I should have seen Charles X. an 
hour sooner than I did. The new King, who was dressed in 
violet from head to foot, looked exceedingly handsome and 
extremely sad, and, as usual, was easy, simple and gracious. 
His first act had been to maintain all his brother's ministers, 
who, as a matter of fact, were his ; for, since Mme. du Cayla, 
the majority in the Chamber and his infirmities had forced 
Louis XVIII. to stoop, but too late, towards his disgraced 
friends, Monsieur had become almost the master of the 
situation. 

This excellent man — the opposite of his brother in everything — 
began his reign with a blunder. Villele, who had lost his popu- 
larity through the abortive Bill for the Conversion of the Rentes, 
thought that he could regain it by suppressing the censorship, 
and, in spite of the opposition of Corbiere, who showed that he 
had common sense and courage, Charles X. approved of the idea. 
Henceforth the Press was free. 

The chapelle ardente fitted up at the Tuileries was extremely 
magnificent but very transitory. I saw the removal of the body 
to Saint-Denis. The inordinate length of the cortege, in which 
everybody, apart from the Church, figured, without either order 
or dignity, wearied the Parisians without arousing either their 
admiration or respect. Thus was this philosophical King laid 
to rest with his ancestors without the Church — to the great 
scandal of the capital — taking the slightest part in it.^ 

1 A discussion over prerogative and canon law had arisen between the 
Grand Almoner and the Archbishop. — A. C. 



342 BARON DE FRENILLY 

The funeral took place on October 25. The ceremony in the 
ancient royal abbey of Saint-Denis was as magnificent as the 
chapelle ardente and much more decent than the removal of the 
body. The catafalque, illuminations, music, the pomp of the 
service, and the black and silver draperies reaching to the 
vaulted roof of the immense basilica composed a scene of 
admirable solemnity, whilst the revival of the old etiquette 
of the monarchy carried one back to the days of Philippe 
Augustus or Saint Louis. 

Mme. de Mezy died on November 4. Four days later another 
death occurred that affected us much more, that of the Comtesse 
de Pimodan. 

At this time all Paris was rushing to Sainte-Genevieve to see 
the cupola to which the painter Gros had just put the finishing 
touches. To reach the dome was an exceedingly long ascent, 
and on getting to the top a little door led you into a circular, 
vaulted room, lit by the lantern of the dome. The floor was a 
scaffolding which suspended the spectators two hundred feet 
above the pavement of the church. The paintings on the 
circular walls represented, on a gigantic scale, an epitome of the 
history of France, with Clovis, Philippe Augustus, Saint Louis, 
Henri IV., and Louis XIV. as the dominant figures. In an 
Ossianic sky were the aerial figures of Louis XVI., Marie 
Antoinette, Mme. Elisabeth and the Dauphin, who, placed in a 
row, had rather too much the appearance of resting on a balcony 
of clouds to see their ancestors pass. Everything else was very 
good. This work brought Gros, who was but a rough painter 
of battle pieces, the title of Baron, an excess of pride, and a 
fever of ambition, which, after he had strutted about in all the 
ministers' salons^ shortly carried him off. 



CHAPTER XXI 

1825 

Coronation of Charles X. — Deaths — General Foy. 

On December 22, 1824, Charles X. presided for the first time at 
the opening of the Chambers. There was great and sincere 
enthusiasm, for people were so tired of his brother and so 
perfectly in accord with him. 

As the time for the coronation drew near, the Chambers 
prorogued, and on the last day of the session. May 21, the 
deputation that was to be sent by the Lower House to Rheims 
was appointed by the drawing of lots. I was one of the 
members. 

A little misfortune that I had foreseen happened to me at 
this period. The King sent me the cross of the Legion of 
Honour. I felt inexpressible repugnance for an order founded 
by Bonaparte, but had to resign myself and take the oath, and 
since then I have never left off the red ribbon, which was 
sanctified in my eyes by the person from whose hand I received 
it and the oath that I took. 

The coronation was fixed for May 29, so on the 15th we 
returned to Bourne ville, which is half way between Paris and 
Rheims. For the past month, Parisian ladies had been moving 
heaven and earth to obtain seats in the Cathedral and beds in 
the town. But Grand Master Breze asked for so many reasons 
for eligibility in the case of the former and the people of Rheims 
so much money in the case of the latter that when the day 
came the Cathedral was by no means full and rooms were being 
offered in the town at a reduction. In despair, my daughter 
accepted hospitality at the Chateau de Sillery and much 

843 



344 BARON DE FRENILLY 

regretted it afterwards. My wife wished to remain at Bourne- 
ville. As to Olivier, he was then at Saumur. The King 
was to occupy the Archbishop's palace, the ruins of which 
were changed as though by magic into a beautiful habitation. 
Each minister was provided with a fine hotel and above all one 
containing a spacious dining-room, for everybody was to keep 
open house. The Archbishop, the chief maitre (Thotel^ the mayor 
of the town, and my friend and colleague Brimont, not to 
mention others, each kept one. The illustrious Very and the 
celebrated Tortoni dared to come with their supremes and their 
sorbets. Whether they prospered or not I cannot say, but this 
I know, that we had enough to do to defend ourselves against 
bills of fare and indigestion. As to accommodation, Peers, 
Deputies, Counsellors of State, and the members of the King's 
household had each his own retained in advance. The troops 
camped outside the town. It would have been better taste to 
have had none at all. 

My son-in-law, daughter and myself left Bourneville on 
May 25, they to sleep at Sillery and I at Rheims. The posting- 
houses were well organised. My excellent friend Vaulchier, the 
Director General, had collected all the horses and postillions 
within a radius of twenty-five leagues. It was a curious sight 
to see them at each posting-house standing in pairs along the 
side of the road, like remounts of cavalry horses ready to pass 
in review. Although the main road rather resembled the Rue 
Saint-Honore, nobody had to wait even five minutes. My 
quarters were in the Rue Ceres, at the house of an honest 
citizen, a vine-grower, a bit of a patriot, I suspect, but withal 
the best fellow in the world, full of attention for me and of a 
new-born devotion for the royal family. We had an interval of 
two days in which to visit and receive our Parisian friends. . . . 
In my case, particularly, it was a great pleasm'e to be once more 
in the noble old town which I had not seen since the years when 
I studied Justinian and Pamela. Everything was familiar to 
me ; I had a feeling of tenderness for each alley, each house, 
and even for each of the shops, some of which had formerly been 
very dear to me. 

The King entered Rheims on May 28. The fine, long and 
broad Rue de Vesle lent itself very well to magnificence. The 



THE CORONATION 345 

troops in grand array, the sanded streets, the draped houses, all 
Paris at the windows and all Rheims on the housetops formed 
an exceedingly beautiful scene. The corUge alone was open 
to criticism ; there were more sabres than plumes, and the 
King had too much the air of coming to his coronation by right 
of conquest. Bonaparte, who had no other title than that of a 
conqueror, caused France to lose her traditional joyous and 
gallant fetes. People who had seen nothing of former days 
considered the coronation carriage very fine; but it was, in 
reality, a wretched concern, when compared to those sculptured 
vehicles which had been handed down to us from the time of 
\he fetes of Louis XIV. The best artists in Paris had exhausted 
their knowledge in producing what was after all but a mean 
gilded thing. 

On the eve of the King's entry an incident occurred that very 
nearly threw it into tragic confusion. When leaving Fismes 
the salute fired by a battery of guns so frightened his horses 
that they set off at full gallop. With great difficulty the 
postillions kept them to the road, but those of a carriage, some 
hundred and fifty yards ahead, made so sudden a movement to 
one side, in order to avoid a collision, that they and the vehicle 
rolled down an embankment. The occupants were rather 
seriously injured. The Due Etienne de Damas and General 
Curial were taken to Fismes, where we visited them on our 
return. But poor Arthur de Cosse, the chief maitre d'hote! and 
a very important person at the coronation, who had his jaw 
badly damaged, continued on his journey and performed his 
duties wearing a black taffetas chin-bandage. 

In the case of the coronation you will perhaps picture to 
yourself a scene in which the Peers, Deputies, Counsellors of 
State and Magistrates each advanced in procession, preceded by 
their huissiers and guards to the church doors, where they were 
received by the masters of the ceremonies and conducted to their 
seats. That was the custom in former days. But now it had 
all changed. Imagine the little house of a canon, separated 
from a small side door of the Cathedral by a narrow street. 
Such was the general meeting-place ; such was the green-room 
from which the actors — more or less bespattered with mud, for 
it was raining heavily — made their entrance. Carriages were 



346 BARON DE FRENILLY 

prohibited out of consideration for the good people of 
Rheims who crowded everywhere. There you have the stately 
antechamber whence all the great people of the empire of 
Charlemagne, after being packed there, pellmell, for an hour, 
poured out in confusion at a given signal, to slip in through 
the aforesaid cat-hole in the Cathedral. However, when the 
curtain rose, the spectacle was very fine. But only one thing 
is firmly fixed in my memory : the King''s face and his quick, 
easy, noble and gracious carriage, recalling — as his mind and 
character did — the figure of Henry IV. Nor have I forgotten 
those outbursts of " Vive le Roi ! " which, rolling like thunder 
in the streets, reached the nave and filled the whole church. 

On the following morning there Avas a grand reception at 
the Archbishop''s Palace. We attended it. The King, who 
had sometimes chaffed me for being so difficult to please in 
many things, said, on my bowing to him : " Well, Frenilly, 
was it all right ? Are you satisfied ? " " Sire,"" I rather 
happily replied, "I trust that Your Majesty made me weep 
yesterday for the last time in my life."" 

The same day the King invested twenty-one Knights with 
the Order of the Holy Ghost. In expiation of the pleasures of 
the previous day, I attended this long, wearisome and not 
very honourable ceremony, at which the Holy Ghost was 
brought down on to many breasts that had hardly merited it, 
and on to many others whose hearts had beaten and were still 
beating for other than the descendants of St. Louis. In the 
former category I place Villele, Corbiere, Ravez, the President 
of the Chamber, and Breze ; in the latter, Soult, Mortier, and 
others. No one criticised Maille, Fitz-James, Polignac, and La 
Suze. 

The fetes continued for two days. That at the camp was 
charming. The soldiers had made gardens in front of their 
tents. Here and there were dancing and banqueting halls ; 
everywhere festoons of verdure and garlands of flowers ; finally, 
a great many military bands, the emptying of many barrels, 
and the display of much joy, noise and enthusiasm. 

Another Jete was held on the promenade at Rheims. Its 
cirque was transformed into a fair, the shops of which contained 
all the treasures of Champagne. But what treasures ! Ginger- 



GERMAIN DE THESIGNY 347 

bread, Rousselet pears, brawn, petits pates, rolls, all the famous 
specialities of Rheims were displayed there. The industrial 
school of Chalons-sur-Marne had filled the remainder of the 
shops with specimens of its work in the cabinet-maker's and 
locksmith's arts, which proved better than everything that 
was either said or written at the time of its establishment, 
that the only effect of such an institution was to vitiate taste 
and spread mediocrity. 

The King re-entered Paris on June 6. The ceremony was, 
like that at Rheims, a mean, military one, the joy of the public 
moderate, the illuminations poor, and the fireworks passable. 
Each minister gave a fSte, and the City had its own, and all of 
them were very magnificent, according to what I was told, for, 
since I was now invited everywhere, I no longer went anywhere. 

The same month I lost my cousin Germain de Thesigny, who 
died in the garret already mentioned with 1,200,000 francs in 
his pocket. The god that watches over the blind had, by a 
special miracle, sent him two trustworthy servants, so that 
nothing was lost except what had to be given to Mile. Desmares, 
a charming actress whom he had formerly married and who 
produced an alleged son. This honest person made us pay one 
hundred thousand ecus for her silence. The rest of the money 
was divided. Half went to M. Silvy. My share was one 
hundred thousand francs. 

The Marquis de Clermont-Tonnerre, who, after being Minister 
of Marine, had become Minister of War, and who, though the 
best of men, knew as much about one as the other, did me the 
favour at this time, and unknown to me, of placing my son, in 
company with some of the best people in France, in a regiment 
of carabiniers that the King had just formed with the object of 
making it the flower of the army. 

In September Olivier left Saumur for Pont-a-Mousson to 
receive his new uniform. Whilst on his way he spent a fortnight 
at Bourneville with his inseparable friend Stephen de Nansouty. 

Two public men died that autumn : one the most virtuous 
and the other the most brazen-faced rascal that ever dis- 
honoured the world. The former was the Due Mathieu de 
Montmorency, tutor to the Due de Bordeaux. The latter, 
whom I have almost named, was General Foy. A little bully 



348 BARON DE FRENILLY 

under Bonaparte, who did not like the species, a general, a 
Knight of Saint Louis, a holder of the Grand Cross of the 
Legion of Honour, a traitor at Nantes, a conspirator in 
Paris, and on all occasions a dissembler, the only thing he 
did not get was a peerage. He possessed a good deal of 
wit — who does not possess it ? — a little talent, and impudence. 
The republic of conspirators raised a temple to him at Pere- 
Lachaise, published an edition of his works by public subscrip- 
tion, and gave him a magnificent popular funeral at which 
the livery of the Orleans family was conspicuous. 

We returned to Paris on November 18. My country seat, 
whose rental was 8000 francs, was for sale and had become 
very agreeable. 



CHAPTER XXII 

1826 

Vaublanc — The Marquis de Eivi^re — Reduction of Taxation — Settle- 
ment of the San Domingo Indemnity — The Jubilee of Sainte- 
Genevi^ve — The Jesuits. 

The session opened on January 81. I was appointed a member 
of the Address Committee. Though shaky, I was still on my 
feet. The preparation of the Address, which was usually the 
work of the whole committee, was this time placed entirely in 
the hands of Vaublanc and myself. Vaublanc had another mis- 
fortune in common with me : that of being a poet. He read me 
his Chute de Constantinople^ and I had to summon up all the 
affection I bore him in order to forgive him. 

The Marquis de Riviere, another man of the same stamp, 
replaced the Due de Montmorency as tutor to the Due de Bor- 
deaux. As in the case of his predecessor, the choice met with 
approbation.^ He died too soon after his appointment and 
under suspicious circumstances. When Ambassador in Con- 
stantinople, he had seen the Greeks, whose cause created a 
great noise, near at hand. In Paris, they were hated or beloved, 
according to whether you were Royalist or Jacobin. As for 
himself, he cordially detested them, and I recollect that on his 
return, when I was dining with him at Mme. de La Tremoille's, 

1 Or rather Le Dernier des C6sars ou la Chute de V empire romain, a poem In 
twelve cantos which Vaublanc published in 1836. — A. C. 

2 In regard to this choice, see an interesting passage in the M6moires of the 
Duchesse de Gontaut, pp. 271-272. Charles Francois de Riviere was born in 
1763 and died in Paris on April 21, 1828. He was a lieutenant-general, a 
peer in 1815, was created a duke on May 30, 1825, and appointed as tutor to 
the Due de Bordeaux on April 10, 1826. Mme. Vigee Le Brun (Souvenirs, 
vol. ii. pp. 323-328) has devoted one of her "pen pictures" to him. — A. C. 

349 



850 BARON DE FRENILLY 

and was showing some pity for the patriarch whom Mahmud 
had had strangled, he said to me : " Yes, he was hanged and 
rightly so, for ..." 

It was during this session that Villele, who had j ust given the 
Emigres a thousand milhons, reduced the land-tax by seventy- 
two millions. In former days, a reduction in taxation of half 
this amount would have led to statues being raised to Colbert 
or altars to Necker. But this one passed almost unobserved, so 
indifferent had the nation become either towards good or evil, 
so dead was all generous inspiration, and so skilfully had the 
Jacobins and the newspapers infected everything. 

I believe that I have anticipated events a little, for at the 
beginning of March an important State question came before 
the Chamber : the Bill for the settlement of the indemnity 
imposed on San Domingo. It was a purely financial matter, 
necessitating no lengthy discussion. But the " Pointe "" ^ had 
periodically raised so many quibbles that it had grown into a 
State affair of the first importance. The King had recognised 
San Domingo, which, on becoming an independent Republic, 
consented to pay one hundred and fifty millions to the colonists, 
who had been dispossessed of their property for thirty-five years 
past, and to reduce its duties on French goods by one-half. 
The surrender of the territory was the bone of contention. To 
adopt the law would be equivalent to recognising this right of 
the Crown ; to throw it out would be denying it. The " Pointe" 
rushed for this imprudently opened door. La Bourdonnaye 
took his stand as an ignorant and vulgar demagogue; his 
followers supported him ; the Right gave way and the Left, 
divided between its feelings, which were in favour of the enfran- 
chisement of the negroes, and its policy which kicked against 
Crown privileges, remained neutral. When my turn came to 
speak on the subject, it had already been discussed for three days. 
The hour was late ; the Chamber full, but fatigued ; and the 
dinner hour was on the point of striking. To realise how 
detestable these inconveniences make the life of a deputy and 
how great is the probability that Cicero, vmder similar circum- 

1 A political group that sat at the extreme Right, towards the entrance to the 
Chamber. It became the instrument and sometimes the ally of the Left, whose 
object was the overthrow of the Ministry and the Crown. — Tbanslatob. 



A NOTEWORTHY SPEECH 351 

stances, would have put his hearers to sleep or to flight, one must 
have been a member of the Chamber. I did my best to get the 
discussion postponed, but it was decided that I should speak, and 
I did so, feeling furious. I had simply the consolation of seeing 
that, at my first words, the various groups thronged under the 
tribune. After speaking for five minutes, hunger had gone, the 
hour was forgotten, attention was awakened, and in ten minutes 
I felt that what I was saying was meeting with general approba- 
tion. On concluding my speech, half of the Chamber and the 
whole of the Ministers, with the exception of two, surrounded 
the tribune to congratulate me. I heard even the deputies of 
the Left shout : " Good, very good ! Those are true principles ! " 
Good people ! I was speaking against them, but they were 
negro and everything they saw was black. They would have 
given the King the right to transfer Paris in order to have the 
pleasure of making a Republic. The fact is, that, being rather 
well acquainted with the subject, I had made a solid and con- 
vincing speech. People called it " the speech of the session," 
and in the evening, at the Tuileries, the King said to me : " It 
is you who have got the Bill through." 

It had, however, yet to be passed. The list of speakers was 
far from being exhausted, and the session dragged on until 
March 20, when I brought it to an end by replying to all that 
had been said during the past week. 

I forget the exact date of the jubilee which was held in this 
)'ear, but I clearly recollect that the weather was horribly cold, 
and that I walked from Notre Dame to Sainte-Genevieve with 
the procession of the King, who, dressed like a young man of 
twenty, chaffed me for having put on an overcoat. When 
passing in front of the Law Schools, opposite Sainte-Genevieve, 
some of the students shouted : " No Jesuits for us ! " The 
Jesuits were then the favourite subject of discussion with the 
Jacobins, who thus reasoned very correctly, for in delaying their 
destruction they were running a danger. Charles X. was doing 
what his philosophical brother should have done ten years 
sooner — multiplying schools for the bringing up of a monarchical 
and religious generation. Do we not to-day still recognise 
the educational work of the Jesuits whenever we see dutiful 
children, respectful sons, and young men who still deign to love 



352 BARON DE FRENILLY 

God, their duty, and the monarchy ? But in Paris even, this 
question was an apple of discord cast into our ranks by the 
Liberals, and it caused division among the best Royalists. The 
people were assured that the King had become a priest, and 
there had been put into circulation five-franc pieces on which 
his effigy was crowned with a Jesuit's cap. 

Though apparently healthy, the State was beginning to break 
up. The " Pointe " was gaining ground. 

France possessed but one imperishable institution — the thea- 
trical performances at Le Marais. This year, however, they had 
undergone one of those changes of which old institutions should 
always fight shy ; they were held in July instead of September. 
I believe that of the old company the only ones left were Mme. 
Mole, Tourolle, and Mme. de Chastellux. 

The death of Talma created somewhat of a sensation in Paris. 
His illness dragged out so long that the conquest of his soul 
became the subject of a lengthy controversy between religious 
people and the Liberals. The Archbishop of Paris, with a 
valour which disclosed more desire, perhaps, to gain a Christian 
victory than charity, was the first to take up arms. 

The close of this year was rather animated by an insolent and 
ridiculous speech in which Canning, a plebeian forerunner of 
little Thiers, assumed the attitude of a radical ^olus, ready to 
let loose his revolutionary winds on nations who would dare to 
defend their rights, institutions, honour, or patrimony against 
England.^ This impudent and insane outburst raised such an 
outcry, even in his own country, that he was forced to explain 
and modify it. In Paris, good Lally-Tollendal, the warm and 
ingenuous friend of everybody, printed a justification which 
showed the candour of his soul more than the acuteness of 
his judgment. We returned to Paris on December 12. The 
Chambers opened on the 15th. 

1 See, in regard to this episode, Pasquier's Mimoiret, vol. vi. p. 70. — A. C. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

1827 

Death of the Duchesse de Damas — Eeview and Disbandment of the 
National Guard — Olivier's Follies — The Osages — Application for a 
Peerage — The new batch of Peers — Fall of Navarin — Villele — The 
Martignac Ministry — The new Peers at the Luxembourg — Closing 
words. 

In this climacteric year we shall see the Government descend 
the revolutionary declivity with greater and greater rapidity. 

For us it began with a bad omen : the death of my thirty- 
year-old friend the Duchesse Charles de Damas, who succumbed 
to a mucous fever on January 24. She left a great void in 
society. 

This winter no change took place in our household arrange- 
ments, except that our Saturday gatherings grew larger and 
larger, and that, with a rather happy result, we began to have 
small gatherings of twelve to fifteen intimate friends on Thurs- 
day evenings. As to my weekly dinners, the size of my dining- 
room fortunately prevented me from entertaining more than 
seven or eight friends. But, if the number of guests was small, 
they were all men of conspicuous ability, such as Damas, Fitz- 
James, Bonald, Villele and Corbiere. 

It was said in society that my table served the purpose of 
bringing about a fusion between the Ministry and the " Pointe."" 
There was not a word of truth in this. Indeed, I was so far 
from believing in the possibility of union that this session I 
definitely threw away my chances of appearing on any more 
committees by boldly raising my flag. I spoke exclusively 
against the Press, which was daily becoming more and more 
violent, and completed this daring attack by framing a Censor- 

853 2 



354 BARON DE FRENILLY 

ship Bill with Peyronnet. When the session was over the 
censorship was reestablished, and the " Pointe " held me re- 
sponsible. A committee for the supervision of the Press was 
organised, and nine tyrants, of whom I was one (the others were 
Bonald, D'Herbouville, Breteuil, Maquille, Ollivier de la Seine, 
Cuvier, Broe, and Guilhermy), met once a week at the Chan- 
cellor's office to receive the reports of the censors, who were to 
be found wherever a newspaper was published. Though the 
Ministry had not the courage to maintain this committee more 
than four months, it must be confessed that in this short time it 
pioduced a surprising calm in the hurricane of public rumours. 
It brought down upon us an angry pamphlet by Chateaubriand, 
who had formerly demanded capital punishment against the 
liberty of the Press and said : " The granting of its liberty would 
make me prefer that of Constantinople." 

On April 30, and whilst the parliamentary session was in full 
swing, the National Guard of Paris was disbanded. This was — 
and rightly so — a State affair. Let me explain its causes and 
results. On the 29th the King held a general review on the 
Champ de Mars of the twelve battalions of the Guard. Silence 
reigned in the ranks, for the minds of the middle classes of Paris 
were daily being poisoned. Then the sound of an insolent voice 
(which it would have been wiser not to have heard) reached the 
King's ears. " Arrest that rascal ! "" he cried. " I have come 
here to receive respect, not lessons ! " But, either through 
indifference or resistance, the order was not carried out. The 
soldier having been guilty of insolence, and his companions of 
disobedience, the company, and even the battalion if it had 
dared to support it, should have been dismissed and disarmed. 
But nothing of this was done. The next day a royal decree 
declared the National Guard disbanded. Now, to suppress the 
Guard would have been an excellent thing if a signature had been 
able to bury its twelve thousand men. Talking with Villele, I 
spoke of the Government's lack of strength. " Lack of strength ! " 
he exclaimed, drawing himself up. " What about the disbanding 
of the National Guard ? " " Is it disarmed ? " I retorted. And 
even when it was, there were placards at the corners of the 
streets bearing the words : " Habits a vendre, armes a garder ! " 
The uproar was enormous, and over this question royalists 



OLIVIER IN DIFFICULTIES 355 

and even ministers were divided, to the advantage of the 
" Pointe," 

To my ordinary troubles there was added at this time the 
worries caused by my son. On July 21 I received the news 
that he was imprisoned in the citadel at Metz. The matter 
threatened to be serious, for there was a risk of him being 
cashiered. The offence he had committed consisted of an act 
of impertinence in the riding-school, and in the case of any 
one else three days' imprisonment would have ended the matter. 
But on entering the fortress poor Olivier could think of nothing 
better to do than to send a fine and eloquent letter of appeal to 
General Villatte, the Commander-in-Chief at Metz. In reply, 
the General^ gave him a fortnight more, and wrote to the 
Ministry of War to ask for his transfer to another regiment. 
Any one else but Olivier would have been lost, and you should 
see the volumes which the little sage wrote to me from his cell 
to prove that everybody save himself was in the wrong. After 
infinite negotiations I succeeded in saving him. My friendship 
with the Minister, the excellent but weak Clermont-Tonnerre, 
stood me in good stead ; my position, duties, and the personal 
consideration in which I was held were also useful. So, in 
spite of either colonel or general, my son remained in the regi- 
ment ; and when the inspection came, Prosper de Crillon, who 
conducted it, served me so well that he retained his chance for 
the first lieutenancy, which he ought to have lost. He obtained 
it in the following October. I must confess that my conscience 
was pricked by this abuse of influence ; but show me the man 
who, being able to do it, could have resisted the temptation. 

On August 24 Baron de Damas, then Minister of Foreign 
Affairs, gave us a grand dinner at which there were present a 
number of Osages, ambassadors from I know not what North 
American tribe, who had come to ask the King of France for 
an army. There were displayed before us on a divan four stout, 
tall rogues and their two little wives, all naked to the waist, 
but so well tattooed and painted that they seemed to be wearing 
richly ornamented jerkins. When at table, where these savages 

1 Comte Eugene Casimir Villatte, Brigadier-General since August 29, 1803, 
General of Division since February 25, 1807, was then in command of the 
third military division at Metz. — A. C. 



356 BARON DE FRENILLY 

used their knives and forks with great dexterity, the chief of 
the band rose and addressed to the Minister a long speech, 
which an interpreter finished by making a Httle more unintel- 
ligible. On returning to the drawing-room they were asked to 
sing, whereupon they broke into such a terribly loud chorus 
that the baron's children fled in fear. As a matter of fact, 
I believe that this embassy was a little business enterprise of 
the so-called interpreter, who had collected these curious people 
on the banks of the Missouri, and who, awaiting the time when 
he would take them from fair to fair, was taking them from 
court to court. Indeed, a few months later they could be seen 
for twenty-four sous. 

People in society were beginning to speak of a new creation 
of peers. They were already only too numerous, and, had it 
been possible, it would have been better to have decreased than 
increased their number. But the chimeras of the " Pointe " 
had spread to the Upper Chamber, vainglorious over the popu- 
larity it had gained by rejecting the Bill for the Conversion 
of the Rentes. It contained some important enemies of the 
Ministry, such as Fitz-James and Kergorlay, new and fervent 
" pointus,"" Broglie, Mole, and Chateaubriand, who was still 
smarting bitterly over his fall. There were also ordinary adver- 
saries, such as all the peers created by Decazes ; and Villele 
began to fear that his majority would be compromised. 

Rights, ranks, fortunes, things and people had so declined in 
France since the days of Charlemagne that in the nineteenth 
century I was admirably suited for the Peerage. However, un- 
important though it had become, it was still of social and 
material value. People were in the habit of saying that the 
heirship of a peerage was equivalent to a dowry of a million ; 
and my son would soon be twenty-four years of age. I myself 
was fifty-nine and had the gout ; and, as the possessor of pro- 
perty to the value of two millions, in addition to a name, I 
began to think that the time had come for dignified leisure 
rather than for the continuation of hard work, with Brittany 
on my .back, in a Chamber where I was daily losing my illu- 
sions. After deep reflection, I went to see Villele, placed my 
situation before him, and asked him, if the King created new 
peers, to include me among them. His reply was simple : " If 



CREATION OF PEERS 357 

he makes any, you will be included." This and the position of 
a Counsellor of State were the only things that I should ever 
have asked for; and I ought to say, in justice both to the 
Minister as well as to myself, that I had to intrigue for neither 
the one nor the other. 

On November 6 there appeared in the Moniteur Villele's three 
last pieces of stupidity: first, the decree dissolving the Chamber; 
second, that creating seventy-six peers ; and third, that sup- 
pressing the censorship. Alas ! children break their tools 
instead of using them ! These three ordinances presaged the 
fall of the monarchy,-"- 

It is true that among these seventy-six new peers was to be 
found, apart from four or five names, the flower of France, as 
regards birth and fortune, intelligence, and sound opinions. 
But this did not excuse them from the crime of being seventy- 
six. When, much to my regret, my name appeared in this 
honourable crowd, I wrote a farewell letter to my Savenay 
electors like a man who regrets a sure re-election ; though, as 
a matter of fact, knowing the mines that were being laid there 
more than elsewhere, I was far from being certain of it. 

I have forgotten to say a few words about the famous Battle 
of Navarin, which was fought on October 20 of this year. 
The French and the English, in league with the Russians, for 
the benefit of Russia and to their own disadvantage, beat the 
Turks, in order to profit the Liberals of Europe by making the 
little boy of a little King of Germany, a little King of Athens. 
France lent or gave — it is all one — sixty millions to put this 
fourteen-year-old Theseus on the throne and mutilate its 
natural ally, which had become infirm, though rich and pro- 
ductive. Never was there a more inglorious victory than this 
one of three Powers over the shadow of a nation whom they had 
entrapped without declaring war. The Russian admiral merited 
a stout bowstring ; the English and French admirals deserved 
hanging; and the question was raised in the English Parlia- 
ment. In Paris, everything ended in compliments, for action 
had been taken merely in response to the more and more 
exacting influence of the Liberals and the " Pointe." 

Before December was over Villele was made a Peer, and 
1 Cf. Pasquier's reflections, Memoires, vol. vi. p. 95. — A. 0, 



358 BARON DE FRENILLY 

handed his portfolio to Roy.^ Corbiere, another peer created 
on the spur of the moment, made room for little Martignac. 
The new minister was an ardent royalist. He had so often told 
us so ! He was a fawning royalist. He had pleased the 
Dauphin and made the Andujar Decree. He was handsome, 
compliant, and affectionate to every one. What other qualifi- 
cations could be wanted to direct the Ministry of Ministries — 
that of the Interior.? Peyronnet, a third Peer, gave up the 
seals to Portalis, an intimate friend of Pasquier, and the son of 
that Aix advocate who was Minister of Religion under Bona- 
parte.^ 

Behold the skilful and zealous ministry entrusted with the 
Crown of Saint Louis — a ministry accepted and even advised 
by the one that had made room for it, though not without 
suspicion, at least on the part of Villele, that it had created a 
child which was incapable of living. 

Castelbajac lived next door to me. The day for the invasion 
of the Luxembourg by the seventy-six new peers having been 
fixed, our ermines, velvets, embroideries, plumes and lace being 
ready — this comedy cost from eight to ten thousand francs — 
we set off together for the House of Peers, wearing, of course, 
our ordinary uniforms, for the above-mentioned fineries were to 
be brought out but three or four times a year. I recollect that 
my companion was rather anxious as to the manner in which we 
should be received. " If they receive us very badly," I replied, 
" they won't be to blame. However, since the King has con- 
demned seventy-six of us to enter instead of two, our duty is to 
enter ; and if they receive us we will enter sword in scabbard, 
but if they refuse us entrance, sword in hand." But there was 
no need for us to make any such warlike demonstration, and 
our new colleagues'" ill-humour was confined to keeping us 

1 Antoine, Comte Roy (1764-1847), Deputy for the Seine, peer in 1821 and 
Minister of Finance in the Martignac Cabinet. He belonged to the Right 
Centre, was considered a great financier, and had the confidence of men of 
business. — A. C. 

2 Joseph Marie, Comte Portalis (1778-1858), first of all an em2Jloyd in the 
diplomatic service, then Master of Requests (1806), Counsellor of State (1808), 
Peer (1819), Minister (1828-1829), First President of the Court of Cassation 
1829-1851), and Vice-President of the Senate under the Second Empire. 

—A. C. 



FINAL WORDS 359 

waiting a little too long. When the doors were opened we were 
introduced pellmell, as though we were entering a conquered 
town, and without any of those formalities that accompany the 
introduction of a new peer to the English House of Lords. 
Our friends were, on the one hand, almost all the peers of old 
standing, who felt they were dishonoured by the " Decazistes," 
and, on the other, all those newly created peers who were 
royalists in our sense of the word — Bonald, Frayssinous, and 
others. These two groups had lost the majority which we 
were bringing back to them, consequently they received us well. 
But on the part of the " Decazistes " there was only embarrassed 
politeness. Mole, formerly my inseparable friend, was politely 
constrained. Pasquier's recognition was but a bow. The timid 
Vice-President, although he was one of my friends and held our 
opinions, was bending under the ascendency of the new Ministry, 
and for a long time none of the new peers were placed by him 
on any committee whatsoever. I had to be patient and extri- 
cate myself from the crowd by degrees. Time and talent 
overcome everything ; but the first was not given to me and 
the second ill accorded with my aversion for the tribune. 

April 3, 1848. 
It will soon be sixty years since I started writing. Has not 
the time come for silence ? Never have I felt a greater desire 
to throw down my pen and forget the remainder of my life ! 
Only two years of anxiety and thirteen years of mourning 
remain, and who knows whether, whilst I write about them, 
Heaven 

Malgre ma fievre lente et ses redoublements, 
Ma fluxion, mon rhume et mes apoplexies, 
Mon crachement de sang et mes trois pleuresies, 
Ma goutte, ma gravelle et mon prochain convoi, 

will not still prolong my life and my story by two or three 
years ? 



INDEX 



Abancoxjrt, M. d', 118 note 1 

Abbaye au Bois, the, 61 

Abeille. the, 295 note 1 

Academie des Chansons, the, 139-40 

Academy, the, denied to the Author, 
272-73 

Adeline of the Italiens, 22, 140 

Administrators-General of Crown 
lands — 
Suppression of the office of, 58 ; 
position devolves upon the Author, 
208-10 

Affry, Vicomtesse d', 216, 228 

Aguisseau, Mme. d', 181 note 1 

Aignan, M. Etienne, poet, 205 and 
note 1 

Aix-la-Chapelle Congress, 300 and 
note 2 

Alacrity, English brig, 295 note 1 

Alais, 66 

Albertas, President 'i', 320 and note 1 

Albisnac, General d', 314 

Alembert, M. D', 11, 24-25 

Alencv, M. D', 87 

Alexander, Emperor, 234, 237, 247 

Aligre, Hotel d', 215 

Aligre, Marquis d', 214 and note 1 

AUard, Mile., dancer, 230 

Allee de Sylvie, the, atChenonceaus, 
122 

Allies, the — 

Cross the Ehine, 240 ; occupy 
Champagne, 241 ; their conduct in 
France, 241-42 ; destruction in the 
Provinces, 243-45 ; capitulation of 
Paris, 245-46 ; their subsequent 
conduct, 248 ; enter Paris after 
Waterloo ; 269 ; negotiations with 
Louis XVIII., 270 

AUigny, property of the Author in, 
119-20, 158 -.59, 204 

Almanack des Muses, the, 173 

Aloigny, D', family of, 70 

Aloigny de Kochefort, Marquise d', 
76 



Alsfcetten, 37 

Altorf, 41 

Ambigu-Comique, Audinot de 1', 21 

Amboise, 255 

American War, the, 27, 82 

Amiens Cathedral, 292 

Amilly, M. Langlois d', 236 

Amnesty Bill, the, 277 

Amsterdam in 1785, 30-31 

Andertnatt, 41 

Andlau, Marquise d', 239 

Andrieux, M., 272 

Andular Decree, the, 329 and note 1, 

330, 336, 358 
Ansi-ers, 258, 261, 322 
Anglas, Boissy d', 131-32, 241 
Angouleme, Due d' — 

Expedition to Spain, 328-30 ; the 

Andular Decree, 329 and note, 330 ; 

mentioned, 251, 277, 280-81, 303 
Angouleme, D: chesse d' — 

Entry into Paris, 249 ; popularity, 

250, "261, 277; at Bordeaux, 266 

and note 1 ; at the death of Louis 

XVIIL,339 
Angouleme to Limoges, 97 
Angoumois, domaine of, 61 
Anne of Austria, 18 
Anson, M., 139-40 
Antilly, Chateau of, 195 
Antoine, Pere, Abbe de la Trappe, 

323, 329 
Anville, Duchesse d', 25 
Appenzell Alps, the, 36, 37 
Aramon, Marquise d', 64 
Argentiere, Cur6 of, 43 
Arget, M. d', 12, 13 
Argout, M. d', 135 and note 1, 137 
Aristocracy, the, the emigration, 95- 

96 ; banned from Paris, 127-28 ; 

the return, 133-34 
Aristote, the, 49 
Aries, 62-63, 66 
Arlus, M. d', 73 
Armentieres, Marquis d', 5 



361 



362 



INDEX 



Arnault, M., 88-89 

Arnouville, 270, 271 

Arnouville, M. Choppin d', 138 

Arpajon, 172, 223 

Arsenal, the, 201 

Arth, village of, 42 

Artois,Comted'. (S'ee a^so Charles X. — 
M. Necker's committee, 84-85 ; 
officers of the, 153, 155, 302 ; his 
appanage of Poitou and Angou- 
mois, 208-10 ; arrival at Nancy, 
246 ; Lieutenant-General of the 
kingdom — entry into Paris, 248, 
251, 257 ; his correspondence with 
the Bailli de Crussol, 266 ; attitude 
towards Louis XVIII., 277-78 ; 
relations with the Author, 303, 309, 
310 ; the Author's official introduc- 
tion to, 311 ; death of Louis XVIII., 
341 ; mentioned, 217, 280, 287, 328 

Asni^res, Marquise d', 75 

Assembly of Notables, proposal of M. 
de Calonne, 57 

Assembly, the — 

Advice of M. Necker, 85 ; the new 
assembly, 95, 102 ; the Constitu- 
tional Guard discharged, 103 ; 
opens the gate of the Feuillants 
Terrace, 109 ; arrival of Louis 
XVIIL, 112-14 

Assumption, Church of the, 303 

Aubepin, clerk, 158-59 

Aubusson, manufactories of, 97 

Aucassin and Nicolette, fable of, 63 

Aucour, M. D', 87 and note 2, 126 

Aucour, Mme. D', 134. 154 

Audiffret, Marquise d', 296 

Aufresne, actor, 31 and note 1 

Auray, Champ d', 94 

Austria, policy towards France, 234 ; 
feeling in, 284 

Auteuil, life of the Author at, 157-60 

Avaray, M. D', 275 and note 2 

Avignon, 65 

Avignon, Mme. d', 189 

Ayen, Due d', 141 

Azevedo, musician, 54 



Babeuf, trial of, 147 and note 2 

Baden, baths of, 38 

Badus, the, 41 

Bailly, M., 26, 85-86, 99 

Baldi, Mme de, 275 and note 1 

Bale, Hotel de Trois Rois at, 36 

Balls in 1780, 21, 22-23 ; the Opera 

ball, 23 ; the Bonneuil balls, 142- 

43 
Bandeville, 178 



Barante, M., 232 and note 2, 239, 259 

and note I, 317,324 
Baraux, fort of, 45 
Barban9ois, Comte de, 192 
Barbe-Marbois, M., 271 and note 3 

295 
Barentin, M., 66 iwte 1 
Barnard, Juliette. See Eecamier, 

Mme. 
Barras, M., 136. 151, 154-55, 211 
Barreau, M., 92, 114, 119, 158-59 
Barrels, Colonel, 305 note 1 
Barthelemy, 151 
Bary. Dr., 15-16 
Bastard, M., 308 
Bastille, the, 56, 78, 132, 162 
Baudelocque, surgeon, 150 
Eausset, Cardinal de, Bishop of Alais, 

301 and note 2 
Baville, 178 

Bazancourt, M. de, 235-36 
Bazin, door-keeper, 116 
Bazoges, Irland de, 75, 209 
Beam, 156 

Beaucaire Fair, the, 61, 63 
Beauce, the, 206 
Beaugency, 92, 94, 118, 136 
Beauharnais, Eugene, 155 
Beauharnais, Hortense de, afterwards 

Queen of Holland, 155, 172, 230 
Beauharnais, Mme., 154. See also 

Josephine 
Beauharnais, the dancer, 154 
Beaujolais, Theatre de, 169 
Beaujon, Hotel de, 143 
Beaumarchais, Le Mariage de Figaro, 

26 ; quoted, 340 
Beaumont, Christophe de, 177 
Beaumont, Mme. de, 176-77 
Beaupoil de Sainte-Aulaire, M. de. 

Bishop of Poitiers, 72 
Beauregard family, the, 73 
Beauregard, M., afterwards Bishop of 

Orleans, 73 
Beauvais, 242-48, 277, 282, 283, 309, 

332 
Becquey,M., 103 and note 1, 317, 338 
Belguises, the, servants at Bourne- 

ville,192, 197, 242 
Belin, servant, 156, 160, 191, 193, 197, 

212 
Bellefaye, M. de, 62 and note 1, 64 
Bellune, Due de, minister of war, 317, 

318, 328, 330 
Belz, Mile., 26 
Belz, Mme., 215 
Benedictines, the, 36 
Benoist, Comte, 317 and note 2 
Beresina, the, 257 



INDEX 



363 



Bergiin, village of, 40 

Bernadotte, Queen of Sweden, love 
for Eichelieu, 300 and note 2 

Bernard, Mile., 8, 9 

Bernard, Samuel, 163 and note 2 

Berne, 36, 42 

Bernina road, the, 40 

Berry, the Author's property in, 204, 
221, 255 

Berry, Due de — 

Attitude towards Louis XVIII., 
277 ; marriage, 280-81 ; assassina- 
tion, 306-9 ; mentioned, 138, 251 

Berry, Duchesse de, 281, 292, 807, 
309 

Bertin, Mile., 49, 64 

Besan9on, 35 

Bethisy, Mathilde de, 292, 307 

Betz, Chateau de, 195 

Beugnot, Comte, Memoires, 153 note 2, 
246 note 1, 251 note 1, 253 andnote2 

Beurnonville, Provisional Govern- 
ment, 247 note 1 

Bianco, Lago, 40 

Bidasoa, the, 329 

Biencourt, Marquis de, 218, 303 

Bievre, Marquis de, 9-10 

Billaud-Varenne, 288 

Blacas, Duo de, 276-76, 276 note 1, 
280 

Blache, Mile, de la, afterwards Mme. 
d'Haussonville, 189 

Black Forest, the, 86 

Blin, Dr., 325 

Blois, 283 

Bliicher, F.M., 244 

Blunt, Mr., 329 

Bocage, the, 324 

Boccage, Mme. Du, 101-102 

Boieldieu, composer, 169 

Boileau, house of, 157 

Bois de Boulogne, 107, 108, 157; cut 
down by the Convention, 130 

Bois-Bonnard, Chateau de, 92 

Boisgelen, Mme. de, 218 

Boissy, Hotel de, 215 

Boissy, M. de, eccentricities, 214-15 

Bologna, 51 

Bombelles, Abbe de, Bishop of 
Amiens, 291-94, 320 

Bombelles, Caroline de, 292 

Bombelles, Charles de, 292 

Bon, Marquis de, 62, 67 

Bon, Marquise de, 5, 8, 58, 61-67, 88, 

108, 127, 134, 135, 212, 289 
Bonald, M., 281, 282, 284, 293, 297, 

306, 315, 319, 353, 354, 359 
Bonaparte, Louis, 230 
Bonaparte, Lucien, 181 



Bonaparte, Napoleon — 

Saves the Convention, 136 ; the 
little general of the 13th of Vende- 
miaire, 154 ; at Malmaison, 171 ; 
and M. de Vaines, 175 ; the revolu- 
tion of the 18th of Brumaire, 181 ; 
coronation, 210-11 ; forbids the 
playing of Alfred, 221 ; and the 
King of Prussia, 222 ; and Des- 
preaux, 229 ; divorce, and marriage 
with Marie Louise, 230 and note 2 ; 
his court at the Tuileries, 231 ; 
birth of the King of Rome, 231-32 ; 
and Alexander, 234 ; policy, 234- 
35 ; campaign against Russia, 236— 
38 ; promotions under, 239 ; battle 
of Leipzig and winter campaign, 
240-41 ; capitulation of Paris, 245— 
46 ; at Elba, 247 ; escape from 
Elba, 256 ; re-enters Paris, 257-58 ; 
and Pasquier, 269 note 1 ; his fear 
of the Vendee, 260 ; surrender of 
Marseilles to, 262 ; issues his addi- 
tion to the Charter, 267 ; battle of 
Waterloo, and flight, 268 ; and 
Laine, 280 ; mentioned, 79, 90, 197, 
305 note 1, 340,343, 345 

Bonaparte, Pauline, 195, 207 

Bonapartists, the, 248 

Bonneuil, Hotel de, 170 

Bonneuil, M., 218 

Bonneuil, President de, house of, 
142-43 

Bonvoust, Mile, de, 135 

Bonvoust, Mme. de, 94, 118 

Bord de I'eau conspiracy, the, 295 

Borde, Alexandre de La, 164 note 1, 
174,175,199,218 

Borde, M. de La, banker, 140, 141, 
164 and note 1 

Borde, M. de La, Farmer-General, 
167 

Bordeaux, 68, 266 and note 1 

Bordeaux, Due de, 315, 330 note 1, 
347, 349 and note 2 

Borgo, Pozzo di, 284 

Bossuet, 198 

Bouchage, Vicomte du, 253 and note 1, 
271 

Bouflaers, Chevalier de, 198 

Bougainville, M. de, 164 note 1 

Bouillerie, M. La, 236 

Boulevard des Italiens, meeting of 
the National Guard on, 108 

Boullanger, President Le, 134 and 
note 1 

BouUongne, M. de, 148-149 

Boulogne, Hotel de, 83 

Bourbon-Busset, Comte de, 320 



364 



INDEX 



Bourdonnaye, M. La, 278, 284, 315 

and note 1 , 350 
Bourges, 204 
Bourgogne, 287 
Bourgoing, M., 139-40, 152 
Bourmont, 313 
Bourneville — 

The Author's first expedition to, 
183-85, 185 note 2 ; development 
of, 94, 186, 205, 227; debts on, 
189-90 ; marriage of the Author, 
191 ; the household at, 192-93 ; 
difficulties, 193-94; life at, 162, 
194 ; neighbouring chdteaux, 195 ; 
wolf-hunts, 196-97 ; law-suits, 204 ; 
the plantation, 206 ; the interior 
park, 207 ; the surrounding neigh- 
bourhood, 207-8 ; celebrations, 
208, 302-3 ; supplies sent to the 
Author's Paris house from, 220-21 ; 
flying visits to, 222, 223 ; visitors 
to, 228, 312 ; precautions against 
the arrival of the Allies, 241 ; de- 
vastation of, 243 ; the Author's 
intentions regarding, 254 ; revolt 
during the Author's absence, 273- 
74; routineof life at, resumed, 281; 
Comtesse Charles de Damas at, 
287 

Bourrienne, M., 334 

Bourrit, M., 43 cmd note 1 

Boursonne, Chateau of, 195 

Bouthillier, M., 252, 270, 279, 317, 338 

Boutin, Mme., 180 

BouviUe, 319 

Boyer, M., 183-84, 187 

Boyer, Mme., 184 

Bradier, M., tutor, 312 

Brege, Mme. de, 142, 143 

Brejole — 

Tutor to the Author, 23-24, 56 ; in 
London, 31-32; goes to Switzer- 
land, 35, 36, 37 ; with the Author 
in Switzerland, 43-45 ; visit of the 
Author to, at Alais, 66 ; mission for 
the Author, 79 ; receives the Author 
in Paris, 128 ; at the Author's wed- 
ding, 191 ; at Bourneville, 194 

Brenet, Doctor, 284 

Breteuil, Baron de, 50-51, 354 

Breze, M., 343, 346 

Briangon, 45 

Briche, M. de la Live de La, 162 

Briche, Mile. Caroline de La. See 
Mole, Mme. 

Briche, Mme. de La — 

Le Marais, life at, 173, 178, 225 ; 
her Sundays, 198, 317 ; at corona- 
tion of Bonaparte, 210 ; at Bourbon- 



Vendee, 235 ; a baZ masqu^, 306 ; 
mentioned, 162-63, 163 note 1, 174 ; 
203, 214, 218, 227, 232. 267, 293 

Brienne, Chateau de, 241 

Brienne, M. de, Archbishop of Tou- 
louse, 57 

Brienz, Lake of, 42 

Brimont, M., 344 

Brion, Mile. De, 302 

Brissac, Duchesse de, 260 

Brissac, Timoleon, Due de, 303 

Brizard, 31 

Brochant family, 195 

Broe, M., 354 

Broek, 30 

Broglie, Duo de, 356 

Brongniart, M. Alexandre, 170 

Brossard, Chevalier de, 331 

Brosses, M. de. Prefect of Nantes, 
313,319 

Brou, Mme. de, 180, 181 note 1 

Brown, Amy, 307 note 1 

Bruc, M. de, 260, 261, 296 

Bruges, Chevalier de, 278 and note 1 

Brun, Mme. Vigee Le Brun, Souvenirs, 
171, 349 note 2 

Briinig, the, 42 

Brunswick, Due de, 117 and note 1 

Buffou, M., 58 

Burgundians, ossuaries of the, 36 

Cabakeus, M. de, 154 

Cabriolets, introduction into Paris, 49 

a7id note 1 
Cadenabbia, 200 
Cagliostro, Comte, 65-56 
Cagliostro, Comtesse, 55-56 
Calonne, M. de, 57 
Cambrai, proclamation of Louis 

XVIII. from, 269 
Cambronne quoted, 267 
Campan, Mme., 172 
CampistroD, actor, 89 
Campodolcino, 41 
Canning, George, 284, 352 
Canova — 

Jja Madeleine, 200 ; Amour et Psycht^, 

201 ; Palamede, 201 ; Venuf, 207 
Capelle, Prefect of Geneva, 290 a/id 

note 2 
Caraman, M., 321 
Caravane, actor, 49 
Carbonari, the, 279, 321, 328, 329 
Carlin, actor, 21 
Carmontelle, 155 ; the Proverbs of, 

5-6, 6 7iote 1 
Carnot, regicide, 136, 151, 270 
Cars, Marquise de, 164 note 1 
Castelbajac, M., 297, 317, 341, 358 



INDEX 



365 



Castellane, M. de, 214 

Castellane, Mile, de, 271 

Castellane, Mme. Boni de, 336 

Catholics, disabilities of, 267 

Caumont, Mme. de, 180 

Cavaignac,M., negotiations regarding 
Bourneville, 189, 193-94, 204 

Caveau, Cafe du, 18 

Cayla, Comte du, 317 

Cayla, Mme. du, 317 and note 1 

Censorship of the Press. See Press 

Cent Suisses, the, 14, 103, 105 

Cercey, Chevalier de, 10 

Cernay, 180 

Cevennes, the, 66 

Chabrol,M.,338 

Chaillot, 215 

Chalons- sur-Marne, school of, 347 

Chamber, the " Undiscoverable " — 
Formation, 270-71 ; attitude of 
Louis XVIII. towards, 272, 276 ; 
anger at the Amnesty Bill, 277 ; 
dissolution, 280, 283, 284 ; power 
of, 299 

Chamonix, valley of, 43 

Champ de Mars, 151 ; Federation of 
the. See Federation 

Champ des Aulx, 63 

Champagne, occupied by the Allies, 
117, 241 

Champlatreux, Chateau de, 163, 171, 
178, 223 

Champlatreux, Mme. de, 181 note 1 

Champlatreux, President de, 163 

Champs-Elysees, 217, 273 

Chancellerie, Hotel de la, 240 

" Chappins," 7 

Charenton, 130 

Charenton Temple, the, 163 note 2 

Charlemagne, 36 

Charles II., 272, 340 

Charles X. See also Artois, Comte 
d'— 
Bill for the freedom of the Press, 
341 ; coronation at Eheims, 343- 
47 ; entry into Paris, 347 ; words 
with the author, 351 ; policy, 351- 
52 ; disbands the National Guard, 
354; the creation of new peers, 356- 
59 ; mentioned, 79. 307, 315 

Charles the Bold, 36 

Charles the Fat, Emperor, 36 

Chamois, De, family of, 220 

Chamois, M. De, 144 

Charost, Hotel de, 217-18 

Charter, the — 

Of Louis XVIII., 250, 340 ; Bona- 
parte's addition to, 267 ; demand 
for its dismissal, 313 



Chartres, 127-29, 266, 322 

Chartres, Due de, destruction of the 
Palais Eoyal, 18-19 

Chassenon, President de, 74-75 

Chasteigner, family of, 70 

Chasteigner, Marquise de, 76 

Chastelain, Mme., 3 

Chastellux, Comte Cesar de, 329 

Chastellux, Comtesse Cesar de, 302 

Chastellux, Mme. de, 287, 290, 292, 
302, 312, 352 

Chastellux, Marquis de, 10-11 

Chastre, Claude, Vicomte de La, 77 
and note 1, 265 

Chastre, Vicomtesse de La, 77 

Chateaubriand, M. — 

Le Marais, at, 176-77 ; Miinoires 
cited, 276 note 2 ; Monarchie Selon 
la Chartre, 283 ; connection with 
the Comervateur, 306, 308-9 ; at 
Verona, 321-22 ; Minister for 
Foreign Affairs, 327 ; silence of, in 
the Rentes affair, 336 ; his dismissal, 
336-37 ; question of salary, 337-38 ; 
on the Press censorship, 354 ; men- 
tioned, 174, 223, 234, 281 note 1, 
282, 284, 293, 297, 356 

Chateaubriand,Mme,l77ancZnofe2,223 

Ch^teauvieux, Lullin de, 218 ; works, 
219 and note 1 

Chaton, gardener, 205 

Chaumont-la-Force, Mme. de, 181 
note 1 

Chavaniac, 90 ; Lafayette at, 97, 99 

Chavaniac, Marquise de, 99 

Chazet, Ad^le de. See Bon, Marquise de 

Chazet, Felicite de. See Mackau, 
Felicite de 

Chazet, M. de, 117, 134, 289 

Chazet, Mile. Annette de, 172 

Chazet, Mme. de, 4, 9, 61, 126, 134, 
172, 186; death of, 212 

Chemilly, M. Praudeau, 185, 189, 192 

Chenonceaux, Chateau de, adventures 
of the Author at, 120-23, 147-48 

Chenonceaux, M. de, 123 

Cher, the, 120-21, 122 

Cheron, M., 215 and note 1 

Cheron, Mme., 215 

Cherubini, composer, 169 

Chevalier, Anne, 135 

Chevalier family, the, 135 

Cheverny, Dufort de, 153 note 1 

Chiavenna road, the, 40 

Choiseul, Due dei(1781), his nickname 
for Lafayette, 28 and note 1, 82 

Choiseul, Maxime de, Prefect of 
Beauvais, 279 and note 2, 287 

Clairon, Mile., of the Fran9ais, 7, 11 



366 



INDEX 



Clairval, 33 

Clauzel, the Abbes, 242 

Clayes, near Versailles, 170 

Clermont, 97, 332 

Clermont-Tonnerre, M. de, 301 and 

note 3, 317, 338, 347, 355 
Clermont-Tonnerre, Mme. de. See 

Talaru. Marquise 
Clerq, Mile. Le. See Eohan-Chabot, 

Duchesse de 
Clichy, 144, 145, 170 
Clotilde of the Op^ra, 175 note 2, 230 
Clovis, 342 

Clubs, closure of the, 50-51 
Coblenz, the emigres at, 96, 105, 217 
Cocagne, 162 

Coetlosquet, M., 801 note 1 
Coire, 40, 41 

Coislin, Marquis de,S13 and note 1, 332 
Col de Balme, 43 
Colbert, 327 
Collard, M., 195 
CoUe, Revenants, 14 
Colysee, the, 21 and note 1 
Comedie-Fran§aise, the, Le Manage de 

Figaro, 26, 49 ; actors of the, 125, 

222 
Como, Lake of, 40, 200 
Compi^gne, Louis XVIIL at, 249-50 
Comtat, Plain of, 65 
Concerts, Sacred, 1780, 21 
Conde, Prince de, 85, 122, 231 
Condorcet, Marquis de, 24-25, 59, 

174 
Conservateur, the, 282, 296-97, 306, 

308-9, 339 
Constance, 36 

Constant, Benjamin, 333, 334 
Constitution, the, conditions of 

acceptance, 136 
Constitutional Guard, the, 103 
Consulate, the, 153 note 3 
Contat, Mile., actress, 89, 168 
Conti, Prince de, 26, 164 note 1 
Controle General, Hotel du, 318 
Convention, the— 

Sits at the Tuileries, 126 ; the Loi 

du Maximum, 129—30 ; cuts down 

the Bois de Bologne, 130 ; rising 

of the Faubourg Saint Antoine, 131- 

33 ; establishment of the Directory, 

136-37 ; religion under, 152 
Coppet, 44, 142 ?wte 2 
Corberon, M. de, 243 
Corbi^re, M., 260 note 1, 293, 299, 

303-4, 317, 319, 332, 341, 346, 353, 

358 
Corey, Maison de, 195 
Corey, Mme. de, 242 



Cordeliers, the, fall of, 123 

Cormery, 256 

Corneille, 30 

Correspondant, the, 282-83, 297 

Cosne, 204 

Cosne-Sur-Loire, Feast of Reason 

celebrations, 119-20, execution of 

peasants, 120 note 1 
Cossacks, the, methods of pillage, 242, 

244-45, 247 
Cosse, Arthur de, accident to, 345 
Cosse-Brissac, Due de, 118 note 1 
Cosses, the, 211 
Couhe-Verac, town of, 76 
Coulanges, Abbaye de, 144, 170 
Coulans, Chateau de, 259 note 1 
Cour des Feuillants, murders by the 

mob in, 113 
Cour de Manege, 102 
Courbevoie, 105 
Courson, 178 

Court of Accounts, the, 209 
Courtebonne, Mme. de, 320 
Courtmanche, M., 301 note 1 
Courtois, regicide, 279 
Coussergues, Clausal de, 308, 319 
Couteulx de Canteleu, M. Le, 140, 

187 
Couteulx de la Noraye, Le, 140 
Couteulx du Moley, Le. See Moley 
Couteulx, Laurent Le, 140 
Couthon, condemnation of, 126 
Cracow tree, the, in the Tuileries, 27 
Crepy, town of, 196 
Cr^quy, Due de, 276 
Crevecceur, Marquis de, 206 
Crillon, Prosper de, 355 
Crisenoy, Caroline de, 238, 302-3 ; 

death, 311 
Crisenoy, Charles de, 238 
Crisenov, Mme. de, death, 320 
Crispin," dog, 156,191 
Croisic, 324 

Crussol, the Bailli de, 266 
Cuilhac, Chevalier de, 97 
Curial, General, 345 
Cuvier, M., 354 
Cygne, Hotel de, 242 

Dainerie, the, 323 

Dalberg, Due de, 247 note 1 

Damas, Baron de, Minister of War, 

329, 330 and note 1, 334, 338, 353, 355- 

56 
Damas, Comte Charles de, 177, 241- 

42, 248, 283, 293, 303 
Damas, Comtesse Charles de, 59, 173- 

74, 178, 214, 247, 252-53, 287, 290, 

292, 294, 302, 312, 353 



INDEX 



367 



Damas, Due Etienne de, 282, 345 

Damas, Duchesse Etienne de, 266 

Damas, Zephyrine de, 173-74. See 
also Chastellas, Comtesse de 

Damas of the Frangais, 168 

Dambray, Charles Henri, Vicomte, 
252 and note 1 

Danae, picture of, 245 

Dancing, introduction of the waltz, 
144 

Danton, death, 124 

Darth^, trial of, 147 note 2 

Dasse, tailor, 155-56 

Daubenton, M., 192 

Dauguerre and Bouton, 39 and note 1 

Daunou, M., 153 note 2 

Dauphine, the, 44 

David, portraits by, 126 

Dazincourt, actor, 168, 222-23, 225 

Decazes, M. — 

Ministry of, 232, 279, 280, 283, 284, 
294 ; head of the police, 271 ; Louis 
XVIII. and, 275, 276, 340 andnote 1 
recall of the Orleans family, 285 
the Bord de I'eau conspiracy, 296 
marries Mile, de Saint-Aulaire, 304- 
5 ; disgraced, 308; his party at the 
Luxembourg, 359 

Defauconpret, M., 311, 312 

D^fenseur, the, 309 

DefEand, Mme. du, 198 

Defrance, steward at Bourneville, 273 

Delahante, Antoine Jacques, 51 note 1, 
52 

Delahante, Etienne Marie, 51 note 1, 
52 

Delahante, M. Adrien, Une Famille de 
Finance, 51 note 1 

Delahante, M., senior, the Farmer- 
General, 51, 90, 196 

Delahante.Mme. Jacques, 126 andnote 3 

Delalot, M., 319 

Delaroche, Marie, 307 note 1 

Delille, Abb6, 25, 172, 173, 234, 319 ; 
death of, 239 

Desbassyns, M., 266 

Desfaucherets, plays and songs of, 88, 
89 and note, 139, 149 

Desfontaines, Eene, 169 and note 1-70 

Desmares, Mile., 347 

Desolle, 300 note 2 

Despinoy, General, 280 and note 1, 
319, 324 

Despreaux, songs of, 139 and note 
2-40, 149, 168 ; his " petites jambes," 
228-30 

Deuil, 170 

Diderot, 81 

Dijon, 224, 227, 283 



Dillon, Comtesse, 142, 144, 170 
Dillon, Kobert, 144 
Dillon, Theobald, death at Lille, 104 
" Dion " of the ballet, 230 
Directory, the — 

Establishment of, 136-37 ; the 18th 

of Fructidor, 151 ; religion under, 

152 ; attitude of the Author towards, 

152 ; Baron de Mackau and, 154 ; 

the 18th of Brumaire, 181 
Domaso, 40 
Doudeauville, M., 317 
Doullens, 243 
Dourdan, 172, 223 
Doux, M. Le, 205 
Dover, 31 

Dresden, Fouchd at, 271 and note 1 
Dress in 1787, new modes, 48-50, 49 

no^^e 1 ; reform in winter of 1799, 

167-68 
Dreux, 246 
Dubois, Cardinal, 54 
Dubois, physician, 228 
Ducis, M., 173, 272 
Dufeugray,M., Sub-Prefect of Savenay, 

313, 324 
Dugazon, Mme., actress, 33, 62, 125, 

140, 141, 168, 169 
Dumont, M., 84 
Dupin, M., 204; the Farmer-General, 

123 
Dupin, Mme., 120, 121-23, 148 
Dupleix, M., 53 
Duport, Mme., 230 
Dupuytren, M., 307, 326 
Durban, Marquise de, 67 
Durfort, Comte Armand de, 328 and 

note— 2^ 
Durfort, town of, 66 
Duruet, M., banker, 62, 

ECHAUGUETTE, Louis 1', 197 

Bcueille, Comte de Preaulx d', 214 

Egypt, flight of Bonaparte, 181 

Einsiedeln, Abbey of, 38 

Elba, 247, 256 

Elections of 1790, the, 81 

Elizabeth, Mme., 82, 113, 342 

Elizabeth, Princesse, 291 

Elleviou, actor, 169 

Elys6e, Alexander at the, 247 ; abdi- 
cation of Napoleon, 268 

Embrun, 45 

Emigres, the — 

the afflux of 1791, 94-96 ; life in 
London, 265 ; Vill&le's grant to, 
350 

Empereur, Mme. L', 88, 128, 170, 207 

Engadine, the, 40 



368 



INDEX 



Enghien, 180 

Enghien, Due d", 206, 235, 305 note 1 

England — 

Impressions of the Author, 31-32 ; 

Continental blockade of, proposed, 

234 ; Toryism in, 284 ; the battle of 

Navarin, 357 
Enqugtes, Chambre des, 81, 137, 176 
Epaminondas, 60 
Epanvilliers, 267 
Epinay, 180, 199 
Epinay, M. d', Farmer-General and 

son of Mme., 139-40 
Epinay, M. Live d', 162 
Epinay, Mme. d', 139-40 
Erdre, the, 323 
Ermenonville, 29 
Esmenard, death of, 234 
Esparts, Mile. Amaranthe d', 76 
Espremesnil, M. D', 53 
Esquelbecq, Marquis d', 143, 293 
Esquelbecq, Marquise d' — 

House of, 143-44, 144 note 1, 171 ; 

children of, 292 ; proposals for 

Claire de Frenilly, 302 ; mentioned, 

142, 180, 198, 293, 312 
Essler, Fanny, 269 
Estissac, Due d', 277 and note 1 
Etampes, 118 and note 1 
Etang, M. del', 215 
Etoile, the, 21 and note 1 
Eylau, battle of, 222 



Fabviee, 290 and note 1 
Famine of 1816, 285 
Farmers-General — 

Position of a Farmer-General, 2 and 

note 2 ; execution of, 62 note 1 ; 

condemnation of the, 124 
Fauveau, M. de, 4, 9, 72, 78, 134, 187, 

289 ; the Author travels under this 

name, 258 
Favier, M., valet de ohamhre, 15 
Fay, 288 

Fav, Chateau de, 172 
Fayet, Abbe, 299 
Feast of Reason, celebrations at 

Cosne, 119-120 
" Federates " companies formed, 259 
Federation of the Champ de Mars, 

79-80 ; the formation of a new, 

105, 106 
Feltre, Due de, 2.^3, 271, 289, 298 
Fenelon, 25 

Feuillants guard house, 113 
F6raufl, deputy, massacre of, 131 
Ferdinand VIL, 321, 329, 330, 336 
Fermes, Hotel des, 124 



Ferney, 44 

Ferrand, Comte, 195 and note 1, 310 

Ferronnays, M. La, 321 

Ferte-MiloD, town of, 195 

Fesch, priest, 230 note 2 

Fetes on coronation of Charles X., 

346 
Feutrier, Abbe, 299 
Fey, 134 
Fezensac , Aimery, Due de, 164, 238 

and note 1 
Fezensac, Mme. de. 164, 173, 189, 

198, 214, 227, 293 
Fievee, Joseph, 278-79, 296, 297 and 

note 1 
Filles de Saint Thomas, 106 ; Church 

of, 116 
Finances, Hotel des, 318 
Fismes, 345 
Fitz James, Due de, 144, 282, 293, 

306, 309, 310, 314, 316, 353, 356 
Fleury, actor, 168 
Florian, M., 10, 38, 88. 89, 173 
Flottbeck, 219 
Folles, popularity of, 1 1 
Fontainebleau, 204, 230 ; arrival of 

the Duehesse de Berry, 281 
Fontanes, Marquis, 254 and note 1, 319 

mid note 1 
Fontenay, M. Devinde, 154 and note 1 
Fontenoy, Battle of, 27 
Fontpertius, Chateau de, 94, 118, 135, 

140, 147 
Force, La, 117, 160 
Formont, M. de, 316 
Fort Elizabeth, 264 
Fortier, M. de, 183, 190 
Fortier, Mme., 211 
Fortier, Mile. Alexandrine Marthe, 

185 note 1 
Forty of the Academv, the, 20 
Fossey, Abbe du, 262", 264 
Foucault, Vieomte de, 316 
Fouche, M. — 

Censorship of the Press, 161 ; his 

advice to Pasquier, 259 note 1 ; 

Louis XVIII. and, 269-71 ; at head 

of the Ministry, 270, 272; flight 

from Dresden, 271 and note 1 ; men- 
tioned, 266, 268 
Fougeray, M. Garnier Du, 260 and 

note 1, 261 
FoureroT, M., 59, 60 note 1 
Forques^ 62, 134 
Foy, Cafe de, 18 
Fov, General, 259, 347-48 ; deputy in 

1824, 333, 334 
Frangais, the, 6, 20, 21 ; Lemercier's 

play, 141 ; receives a play of the 



INDEX 



369 



Author's, 145 ; removal to the Palais 
Eoyal, 168-69 

France — 

State of, in 1791, 91 ; the Emigra- 
tion, 95-96 ; improvisation of the 
three armies, 104 ; defeat at Lille, 
1792, 104 ; the enforced enrolment 
law, 118 ; condition during the 
Terror, 119 ; state of, after the war, 
129 ; Finance in 1798, 155 ; revolu- 
tion of the 18th of Brumaire, 181 ; 
law enabling natural sons to inherit, 
182 ; poverty in society, 189 ; the 
Amnesty Bill of Louis XVIII., 277; 
famine of 1816, 285; the "secret 
note," 285 and note 1 ; foreign affairs 
in 1823, 327-30 ; the Septennial Act, 
331, 332, 334 ; finance in 1824, 334- 
36 ; the battle of Navarin, 357 

Franchet, d'Esperey, M., 338 and note 1 

Francis L, 120, 122 

Francis II., 230, 232, 291 

Franconville, 179 

Francueil, M. de, 123 

Frayssinous, Abbe, 300, 359 

Frederick II., 31 note 1 

Frenilly, Baron de — 

Le Trois Tantes at the Vaudeville, 
145—46 ; Considerations sur une annee 
de I'histoire de France, 159, 272; his 
life in the Faubourg Saint-Hon- 
ore, 162-69, 213-73; Alfred, 221; 
" Henry IV. " in La Partie de Chasse, 
222; "Lucas" in L'Epreuve villa- 
geoise, 222 ; success of his poems, 
225 ; illness, 225-26 ; Joan of Arc, 
225-27 ; Fin du poeme de la It6volu- 
tion, 251-52 ; invitation of the Mar- 
quis de Vitrolles, 278-79 ; the Con- 
servateur, 282, 296, 297, 306, 308-9, 
339 ; publication of Assembles re- 
presentatives, 283; the "secret note," 
285 and note 1 ; his work on French 
Missions, 299-300; the Ddfenseur, 
309; election frustrated, 309-10; 
elected for Savenay, 312-13 ; illness 
of, 321 ; Reporter to the Budget, 
329, 334-36 ; President of Savenay, 
332 ; appointed Counsellor of State, 
339 ; pays his homage to Charles X., 
341 ; receives the Cross of the Le- 
gion of Honour, 343; words of 
Charles X. to, 346 ; member of the 
Address Committee of 1826, 319, 
349 ; speech on the San Domingo 
question, 350 ; Charles X. and, 351 ; 
his peerage, 356-59 

Frenilly, Baroness de — 

The Author's first impressions, 184, 



186-89; services of Cavaignac to 
189-90; marriage, 190-91; life at 
Bourneville, 194 ; children of, 204 ; 
education of the children, 206-7 ; 
her salon, 213 ; illness of the chil- 
dren, 221 ; a surprise for the Au- 
thor, 227 ; flight to the Provinces, 
242-43 ; at the Chateau de Mesnil, 
243 ; leaves Mesnil, 246 ; flight to 
Loches, 256 ; at Nantes and Saint 
Malo, 264 ; some relations, 259-60 ; 
charity of, 285; dinners and sup- 
pers, 293-94 ; returns to Paris to 
nurse her father, 322 ; joins the Au- 
thor during his illness at Nantes, 
325 

Frenilly, Claire de. See also Pimodan, 
Mme. Camille de — 
Early years, 204, 208 ; introduction 
to society, 294 ; marriage, 202-3 

Frenilly, Comte de — 

Family of, 2-5; death of, 15-16; 
at Poitiers, 72 

Frenilly, Comtesse de — 

Personality, 3-4 ; grief on the death 
of her husband, 17 ; designs for her 
son, 33 ; established in the Rue 
Vivienne, 46 note 1 ; attitude to- 
wards the Revolution, 82, 85 ; in- 
heritance from M. de Saint- Waast, 
83-84; her property in Touraine, 
92; balls given by, 100, 142 ; hears 
of the fall of the monarchy, 114 ; 
popularity, 115 ; settles down at 
Chartres, 127-29 ; decomposition of 
her fortune, 130-31, 155 ; return to 
Paris, 134 ; illness and death, 156- 
57 

Frenilly, Mile, de, marriage, 145 ; 
death, 150, 186-88 

Frenilly, Olivier, Baron de — 

His opinion of Norvins, 161 ; birth, 
208 ; tribute of the gendarme, 262 ; 
education of, 265, 272, 273, 285, 
311 ; at Saint-Cyr, 311-12, 314 : 
leaves Saint-Cyr, his future, 330-31, 
331 note 1 ; at Saumur, 344 ; leaves 
Saumur for Pont-a-Mousson, 347 ; 
in trouble at Metz, 355 

" Freron's golden youth," 133 

Friedland, battle of, 222 

Frileuse, M., 90 

Frisell, John Foster, 337 and note 1-38 

Furka, Mount, 41 

Gais, 37 

Gap, 45 

Garat, musician, 54 

Garat, Professor, 58-59, 60 note 1 

2 A 



370 



INDEX 



Garcins, Mile, de, 168-69 

Gardel, director of ballets, 7, 229, 230 

Gardette mine, the, 45 

Garonne, the, 68 

Garville, M. de, 36, 216, 228 

Gavaudan, actress, 169 

Gaveaux writes the music for Alfred, 

221 
Gem mi, the, 42 

Geneva, 44, 290 ; St. Peter's, 43 
Genlis, Mme. de, 11, 195 
Genoude, Abbe, 299 
Geoffrin, Mme., 198 
Gerard, story of a portrait by, 149-50 
Germain, Comte, 235 
Germanic Confederation, the, 237 
Germany, travelling in, in 1785, 30 ; 

Louis declares war on, 103-4 
Germiny, M. de, 287 and note 1, 309 
Gessner, poet, 37, 38 
Gesvres, Chateau de, 195 
Gesvres, Due de, 250, 288 
Ghent, Louis XVIII. at, 266, 269-70 
Giffard,M.,264 

Girardin, Marquis de, 14-15, 15 note 1 
Girardin, M. Stanislas de, 333, 334 
Glandeves, Comte de, 303 
Glaris, Valley of, 39 
Gluck, music of, 49, 54 
Gobert, shepherd, 273-74 
Goethe, 31 note 1 
Gontaut, Duchesse de, Mimoires, 349 

note 2 
Gonthier, Mme., 169 
Goree, the mission to, 294-95 
Gov, Marquis, 127-28, 134, 135 
Goy, Marquise de La, 127-28, 134, 

135, 212 
Goyon, Jeanne de, 323 note 3 
Grammont, Hotel de. 138, 211 
Gramont, Comte de, 150 note 1 
Grandineuil, actor, 168 
Grandpre, Chateau de, 182 
Grandpre, Miles, de, 182 
Grant, Mme., 87, 88 note 1, 153 
Grasse, Comte de, 27 
Gratz, 204 
Gravedona, 40 

Greeks, the, in Paris, 349-50 
Gregoire, Abbe, Bishop of Blois, 92 
Gregoire, regicide, 298 
Greng, Chateau de, 36, 228 
Grenoble, town of, 45, 256 
Gresvaudan, valley of, 45 
Gr^try, M., 171 
Grimsel, the, 41 
Grindelwald basin, the, 42 
Grisons, Canton of the, 40 
Gros, Baron, 342 



Groslay, 170-71 

Gue-^-Tresmes, Chateau du, 195, 241 

Guerande, 324 

Guerin, MUe, 249 

Guilhermy, 354 

Guimard, da^settse, 228, 230 

Guiraudet, M., tutor to the Author. 

See Brejole 
Guiraudet, M., 80 
Guizot, M., 252 
Gustave III., King of Sweden, 29 

Hall, Pierre Adolphe, 107-8, 108 
note 1 

Ham, Chateau de, 131 

Hamlaurg, 219 

Hamilton, Miss, 279 note 3 

Harpe, M. La, 173, 198 ; Cows de 
lAtterature at the Lycee, 26, 58 and 
note 1-59, 60 note 1 ; lectures at the 
H6tel de Bonneuil, 170 ; conversion 
of, 302 

Hartwell, the Court at, 249, 252 

Hats, a revolution in, 49 

Helvetius, 174, 239 

Renault, President, 83, 101 

Henri II., 120 

Henri IV., 207, 342, 346; the eques- 
trian statue, 251, 295 

Herbouville, M. d', 297, 354 

Herel, Mile., 230 

Herve, M. de la Bauche, 323, 325 

Herve, M. de Nantes. 301, 312 

Holbach, Baron d', 26 

Hope, M., banker, 31 

Hopital, L', 239 

Houdetot, Celine d', 236 

Houdetot, Cesarine d', 232 

Houdetot, Constance d', 235 

Houdetot, Elisa d', 235 

Houdetot, Frederic d', 153, 166, 214, 
227 and note 1, 239 

Houdetot, Vicomte d', 166 

Houdetot, Vicomte d' (son), 166 

Houdetot, Vicomtesse d', 123, 162, 
165 ancZ note 2-66, 167, 171, 174,177, 
178, 180, 198, 199, 206, 214, 220, 
238-39 

Houdon, the Frileuse made by, 4 

Hue, M., 252, 257 

Humboldt, Alexandre de, 195 

Hundred Days, the, 159, 266, 269, 271 
and note 2, 277, 316 

Hussaudiere, Mme. de La, 258, 322 

Ijonval, M. Paignon d', 137 
Imecourt, Hotel d', 294 
Incroyables, 167 
Infantado, Hotel de 1', 253 



INDEX 



371 



Inquiries, Chamber of, 53 

Intendant, position of an, 70-71 

Interlaken, 43 

Inter-Ehein, valley of the, 41 

Ischl, 213 

Isola, 51 

Issoudun, 204 

Italiens, the, 20, 21 ; Nina and Richard 

Cceur d& Zt'on, 33-34 ; actors in 1799, 

169 
Italy, social customs in, 31 
Ivors, Chateau of, 195 
Ivry, 128, 170 

Jacobins Club, the, 102, 112, 136 

Jacobins, the — 

The bacchanalia of June 20, 1792, 
104-5 ; attitude towards Lafayette, 
105; policyl792-93,105-6 ; of Loches, 
119 ; some third rate, 128 ; attitude 
of Napoleon towards Jacobinism, 
231 ; evil of Jacobinism, 248-49 ; 
Jacobinism in Spain, 321 ; the 
Jesuits and, 351-52 ; mentioned, 
80, 95, 350 

Jacques, Jean, 123 

James I., 18 

James II., 275 

Jardin des Plantes, 169 

Jarente, M. de, ex-Bishop of Orleans, 
153 and note 1 

Jaucourt, Provisional Government, 
247 note 1 

Jaulnay, 93 

Jean, groom, 322 

Jerningham, Edward — 

Friendship with the Author, 267, 
268, 281 ; death of, 319 

Jerningham, George, 267-68 

Jerningham, Lady , 268 

Jerningham, Sir Edward, 267, 268 
note 1 

Jersey, the Author's voyage to, 262- 
64 

Jesuits, the, influence of, 351-52 

Jews, work of pillage completed by, 
245 

Jonzac, Hotel de, 83, 84, 101-3, 123, 
133, 155, 157, 159 

Jonzac, Marquis de, 83 

Josephine, the Empress, 210, 211, 
229 ; the divorce, 230 and note 2 

Jouard, Dr., 226, 289 

Journal de Paris, 13 

Journal des Debats, 153, 268 

Joyeuse, house of, 182 

Juan, Gulf of, 256 

Juigne, Marquis de, 316 

Jules, Prince, 23, 56 



Julien, 218, 219-20, 293 

Juliet, actor, 169 

Jully, M. Live de, 162 

JuUy, Mme. de La Live de, 164, 227 

Jumilhac, Mme. de, 318 and note 1 

Kandeesteg Pass, the, 42 
Kergorlay, M., 309-10, 332, 356 
King's Library, the, 168 

La Condamine, 15 

LaMontansier, 168 

La Muette, 107 

La Palud, 266 note 1 

La Voulte, 90, 97 

LaSge, Clement de, Farmer-General, 

62 and note 1, 140 
Lab6doy^re, M., 256 
Laborie, M., 153, 167, 179, 199, 218, 

221 
Lachen, 39 
Laclos, M., 78 
Lacretelle Sine, 272 ; Lacretelle the 

younger, 160, 161 and note 1 -62, 

218 
Ladvocat, publisher, 338 
Lafayette, Marquis de, 28, 82, 85, 90- 

91, 98-99, 104, 105, 269, 297, 333 
Laffitte, M., 297 
Lage de Volude, Comte de, 217 note 1, 

293 
LSge, Marquise de, 216-17, 217 notel, 

293 
Lain6, Vicomte, 280 and note 2 
Lally-Tollendal, M., 251 and note 1, 

352 
Lamaria, composer, 169 
Lamballe, Mme. de, 217 note 1 
Lambertye, Comte de, 92 
Lamennais, M., 297, 306 
Lamoignon, Auguste de, 180, 219 
Lamoignon, Christian Vicomte de, 

163 note 3, 178, 180-81, 213, 214 
Lamoignon, M. de, 57 and note 2 —58, 

66 and note 1 
Lamoignon, Mme. de, 163 and note 3, 

181, 215, 240, 293 
Laon, 262 
Laperri^re, M. de, death, 125 and 

note 1 
Lapierre, Mile. Hippolyte de, 187 
Lapierre, Mme. de, 187 
Larevelli^re-Lepeaux, regicide, 136, 

151-52 
Larish-Moenich,- Comtesse Sophie 

Rosalie, 331 note 1 
Lariviere, M., 118 note 1 
Lastic, Hotel de, 156 
Laufen, Fall of, 36 



372 



INDEX 



Lauriston, Law de, Receiver-General, 

260, 301, 322, 325, 329 
Lauriston, Marshal, 237 
Lausanne, 44 
Lauterbrunnen, 42 

Lauzun, Due de, and Louis XIV., 276 
Lauzon, M., Farmer-General, 52 
Lauzon, M., of Poitou, 209-10 
Lauzon, Mme., 209-10 
Lavalette, M. de, 148 
Lavater, Pastor, 37-38 
Lavau, Guy de, 338 and note 1 
Lavoisier, Mme. de, 7-8, 201-3 
Law Schools, the, 351 
Le Marais Theatre, " Grands Jours," 

222, 225 ; mentioned, 227, 299, 352 
Le Mariage de Figaro, 26 
Le Raincy, woods of, 170 
Leclerc, General, 195, 207 
Leipzic, battle of, 240 
Lekain, 6, 7 
Lemercier, N6pomuc&ne, Le L4vite de 

Ephraim, 141-42 
Lemot, foundry of, 295 
Lent, social functions for, 21, 22 
Leon Island, 329 
Leroy, Julien David, 190 note 1 
Leroy, Perette, 190 and note 1 
Les Ormes, 92 
Lescure, M. de, 320 
Lesdigui^res, 45 
Lesnerac, Chateau de, 324 
Lessart, M., 118 ai^d note 1 
Lessart, Mme. de, 87, 88 
Leuk, baths of, 42-43 
Lille, 104, 257 
Limoges to Clermont, 97 
Linger, cook, 155, 157 
Linththal, village of, 39 
Lithuania, occupied by Napoleon, 237 
Live, Mme. de la, 214 
Livry, 59, 144, 170 
Livry, M. de, 175 and note 2 
Lizy, town of, 287 
Loches, 92, 114, 118, 119, 123, 148, 

156. 170, 255, 256 
Lodi, 199 note 1 
Loi du Maximum, the, 129-30 
Loire, the, 94 
Loire-Inferieure, 316, 322 
Lomenie, Comtesse de, 216 
London, the Author in, 31, 265, 272- 

73 
Longchamp, popularity of, 21-22 
Longchamps, 146 
Lonechamps, M., parody of the 

Levite, 141 
Lorry, M. de, Bishop of Angers, 52 

and note 1 



Louet, 54 

Louis, keeper at Bourneville, 278 

Louis XIV., 207, 251,252, 253, 276, 
339 342 

Louis'xV., 14, 27, 28, 49, 64 

Louis XVI.— 

Entry into Paris, 14 ; the peace of 
1781, 28 ; nicknames for, 28, 54 ; 
marriage, 55 ; flight, 90, 94 ; an- 
nounces the war on Germany, 103-4 ; 
the bacchanalia of June 20th, 1792, 
104 ; his position, 106-8 ; review of 
the National Guard, 110 ; the 10th 
August, 110-12; goes to the Assem- 
bly, 112-14 ; " uncle of Napoleon," 
231 ; mentioned, 91, 163, 342 

Louis XVIII.— 
Presentation to Ferte-Milon, 196; 
at Compiegne, 249-60 ; at Saint 
Ouen, 250 ; entry into Paris, 250- 
52 ; his first ministers, 252-54 : his 
stipulation regarding prisoners, 254; 
leaves France, 256-57 ; policy, 265; 
at Ghent, 266, 269-70 ; negotiations 
with the Allies, 270 ; his new minis- 
try, 270-72; attitude towards the 
Chamber, 272 ; friendships of, 275- 
76; Decazes, 275, 276,304-5,840; 
his Liberalism, 277, 283-84, 288; 
welcomes the Duchesse de Berry, 
281 ; dissolution of the"undiscover- 
able chamber," 283 ; recall of the 
Orleans family, 285 ; and Mole, 291; 
reception of Armand de Mackau, 
295 ; De Bruc's conspiracy, 296 ; 
hatred of Lafayette, 297 ; observa- 
tion of the honours of the Louvre, 
303 and note 1 ; and Mme. Prince- 
teau, 304 ; ministry reconstructed, 
308 ; opposition to the Author, 309- 
10 ; opinion of Martignac, 315 
note 2; and Mme. du Cayla, 317; 
provides dowry for one of the Roche- 
jacquelin girls, 320 ; announces the 
Spanish expedition, 328 ; the Andu- 
lar Decree, 330; and Ferdinand, 
336 ; death of, 339-41 ; his Charter, 
340; burial, 341-42; mentioned, 77 
note 1, 79, 333, 345 

Louis Philippe, 80, 135 note 1, 208, 
232, 285 

Louis, Saint, 342 

Louvel, assassin, 306-9 

Louvre, the, habitues of D'Alembert's 
gatherings, 24-25 

Lowerzen See, the, 42 

Lubersac, Comtesse de, 178 

Lucerne, Lake of, 42 

Luciennes, 241 



INDEX 



373 



Luckner, General, 104, 117 
Lugon, 96 

Lungern, Lake of, 4.2 
Luxembourg, Due de, 78 
Luxembourg, the, Directory holds its 

court at, 136; advent of the new 

peers, 358-59 
Luzarches, 163 
Luzerne, M. de la, 74 
Luzines, M. de, 52 
Lycee, the, lectures at the, 8, 58 and 

note-59, 128, 170 
Lyons, 62, 256 ; insurrection at, 289-90 

Mably, Abbe de, 4 

Mackau, Annette de, 233, 267 

Mackau, Armand de, 294-95, 295 

note 1 
Mackau, Baron de, 82, 153 a«dno^e 3-54 
Mackau, Baronne de, 117 
Mackau, Felicite, Baronne de, 5, 8, 

117, 134, 172, 288-89 
Mackau, Mile, de, married Comte de 

Bombelles, 291 
Madrid, the Cortes driven out of, 329 
Magnanville, Chateau of, 137 148-50, 

IbOnote 1,171, 172 
Magny, 243 
Mahmud, 350 

Maille, Due de, 307, 311, 346 
Mainau, He de, 36 
Maintenon, Mme. de, 121 
Maisonfort, Marquis de la, 249 
Maistre, M. Le, 162 
Malcors, Bishop of Carcassonne, 266 
Male, M., 199 
Malesherbes, M., 176 
Maligny, M. Bernier de, 259, 260, 323 
Maligny, Mme. Victorine, 269 
Mallet, M., 144 

Mallet, Mme., 142, 144-45, 156, 170 
Malmaison, 171-72, 230, 268-69 
Malouet, M., 16 
Mans, 322 
Manseel, Mrs., 265 
Mantes, 148, 243, 246 
Manuel, 297 
Maouille, 354 
Marais, Chateau du, 162, 165, 171 172 

and note 1-78, 259 note 1 
Marat, portrait in the Tuileries, 126 
Marck, La, cited, 28 note 1, 153 note 1 
Marcol, M. de, 118, 135-36 
Marcol, President de, 135, 136 
Marconnay family, the, 70, 74 
Marconnay, Madame de, 74 
Marengo, battle of, 199 note 1 
Maret, 278 
Mareuil, Mile, de, 232 



Margency, 180 

Margeret, M. de, family of, 76, 209 

Maria Theresa, 55 

Marie Antoinette, 14, 22, 23, 40, 49 

53-56, 113-14, 231, 279, 342 
Marie Louise, Empress, 230 and note 2 

-31, 258 
Marlborough, chapeaux ci la, Marl- 
borough,, 49 and note 2 
MarmoLit, Marshal, pacification of 

Lvons, 278-90, 298 
Marmontel, M., 24-26, 173 
Marmoutiers, 56 
MaroUes, Cemetery at, 197 
MaroUes, Comte de (de Brion), 143 
Mars, Mile., 168 
Marseilles, 262 

Marsillac, Comte and Comtesse de, 74 
Martiguac, Vicomte de, 315 and note 2, 

328, 338, 358 
Martigny, village of, 48 
Martin, actor, 169 
Martin, M., silk-dealer, 210 
Masson, Frederic, 175 note 1 
Maucreux, Chateau of, 195 
Mauguin, 204 

Maupeon Parliament, the,dissolved, 14 
Maury, Abb^, 20, 25 
Meaux, 190, 297, 333 
Mechin, Alex. E., Baron, 262 and 

note 1, 333 
Medicis, Catherine de, 120, 123 
Meiringen, village of, 42 
Melon,^M., 83 
Memel, 266 
Mercure, the, 25 

Mereville, Chateau de, 164 note 1 
Merville, Mile. de. Hee Lomenie, 

Comtesse de 
Mery, Chateau of, 178, 180 
Mesnil, Chateau of, 243, 246, 291 
Mesnil, Mile, de, 6 
Metra, M., 27 and note 2 
Metz, 355 
Meung, 146, 205 
Mezy, actor, 143, 225 
Mezy, M., 252, 270, 273, 314, 338 
M^zy, Mme. de, death, 342 
Michaud, 293 
Michellet, M., 255, 256 
Milan, 199 and note 1 
Military school, the, 107, 112 
Miller, Mme., 230 
Milon, Comte de, 74, 93 
Minerve, the, 297 
Minette, Mme., 249 
Mini^res, M. Des, 209 
Minquiers, the, 263 
Mirabeau, 28 note 1, 85 



374 



INDEX 



♦'Miroir," the, at Le Marais, 173, 177 

Miromesnil, M. de, 9 

Missions, French, the Author's work 
on, 299-300 

Moisin, Comtesse de, 75 

Mole, actor, 89, 125, 168 

Mole, First President, 163 

Mole, Hotel, 214 

Mole, Mathieu — 

Prefect of the Cote d'Or, 224 ; at 
Dijon, 227 ; position under Napo- 

- Icon, 231, 267-68 ; Minister of the 
Interior — afterwards of Justice, 
239-40 ; gives up the seals, 252 ; 
gets no office under Louis XVIII., 
254 ; made a peer, 270 ; his advice 
to Bonaparte, 280 ; at the Ministry 
of Marine, 291 ; serves the Author, 
294-95 ; mentioned, 163 and note 3, 
180, 214, 235, 259 note 1, 281, 293, 
356, 359 

Mole, Mile. See Lamoignon, Mme de 

Mol^, Mme. (actress), 222-23, 352 

Mole, Mme. (Caroline de le Briche), 
153, 163 and note 3, 210, 240, 252 

Mole, Mme., Mathieu's mother, 180 

Moley family, the, 137 

Moley, Felix du, 141 

Moley, M. dn , 140 and note 1 -41, 171, 
205 

Molev, Mme. du, 140 and note 1 -41, 
142, 146, 171. 172 

Moley, Pauline du, 141 

Money, M. de, 182-83, 184, 186 

Money, Mme. de, 182-83, 184, 186 

Monge, GeofEroy de, 144 

Monge, Mme. de, 144 

Moniteur, the, 332, 357 

Monneron, M., 260, 323, 324, 325 

Monnier, Abbe Le, 27 

Monsieur, on M. Necker's committee, 
84-85. See also Louis XVIII. 

Monsieur. See Artois, Comte d' and 
Charles X. 

Mont Blanc, 43 

Montbreton brothers, the, 86, 160, 198 

Montbreton, M., 195, 281 

Montbreton, Mme. Auguste de, 216, 
241 

Montbreton, Norvins, 86-87, 160-62, 
190,191, 218, 279; Memorial cited, 
139 note 1, 175 note 1,179 note 1, 181 
note 1 

Montbreton, Urtubise, 161, 216 and 
note 1 

Montbrun, Marquis de, 94 

Montbrun, Marquise de, 76, 93-94 

Mont-Dore, 259 and note 1, 271 note 2 

Montesan, Mme. de, 93 



Montesquieu, 58, 198 
Montesquieu, Abb6 de, 164, 247 and 
note 1, 252 and note 2-53, 262, 266, 
270 
Montesquieu, Henry de, 195 
Montesquiou-Fezensac, Marquis de, 

164 
Montesson, Hotel de, 138 
Montesson, Mme. de, 18 
Montet, Mme. de, 300 note 2 
Montfermeil, Bois de, 170 
Montferrand, 98 

Montgobert, Chateau de, 195, 207 
Montgolfier, M., 49 
Monticour, M., 10 
Montmorency, 170-71, 179, 180 
Montmorency, Anna L. de, 279 note 1 
Montmorency, Due Mathieu de, 282, 
284, 293, 306, 317, 321, 322, 327, 
338 note 1, 347 
Montmorency, Eaoul de, 304 
Montpellier, 66-67 ; Court of Ac- 
counts, 62 
Montrond, Comte de, 153 and note 1 
Montrouge, 137 
Monts, Chateau de, 77-78, 93 
Montulle, Mme. de, 143 
Monty, Marquis de, 325 
Monvel, actor, 152, 168 
Mony, M. de, 190, 191, 194, 198 
Mony, Mme. de, 191, 194, 198, 228 

Moordyk, the, 31 

Morat, 36 

Moreau de la Sarthe, Dr., 289, 326 

Morellet, Abbe, 26, 198, 215 

Mornay, Mme. de, 195 

Mortefontaine, M. Le Peletier de, 217- 
18 

Mortefontaine, Mme., 217-18, 267, 
293, 299 

Mortier, 346 ; treachery of, 257 

Moscow, 237 

Moskva, battle of, 90, 238 

Motier, the name of, 82 and note 2 

Motiers-Travers, Grotto of, 35-36 

Mouchy,Duc de, 248 

Moulin de Mareuil, 288 

Mounier, Baron, cited, 290 note 2, 308 
a-nd, note 1 

Mounier, concierge, 185, 187, 193 

Mourgues, Mile, de, 266 

Mousseaux, garden at, 5 

Mun, Adrien de, 174 

Munich, 201 

Murat, 211, 305 note 1 

Myre, La, family of, 195 

Nancy, Comte d' Artois at, 246 arid. 

note 1, 248 



INDEX 



375 



Nanette, Mile., 9 

Nansouty, General de,'179 note 1, 293 

Nansouty, Mme. de, 179 and note 1, 
293, 312 

Nansouty, Stephen de, 312, 347 

Nantes, 258-62, 264, 283, 312, 322 

Nanteuil, M. de, 70 and note 1-71, 73 

Naples, Caroline, Queen of (wife of 
Murat), 207 note 1 ; Caroline, Queen 
of ^sister of Marie Antoinette), 232 

Narbonne, 67 

Narbonne, Due de, 280 

Narbonne, Duchesse de, 266 

National Guard of Paris — 

Composition, 106-8 : assembly on 
the Chateau terrace, 108-10 ; the 
10th August, 110-14 ; again defends 
theTuileries, 132; dress donned by 
the Author, 248 ; disbandment in 

'' Paris, 354 ; mentioned, 90, 105 

Nauroy cited, 307 note 1 

Navarin, battle of, 357 

Necker, M., 8, 44, 60, 66 and note 1, 
84-85 

Necker, Mme. , 8 

Necker, Mile., 5, 8. See also Stael, 
Mme. de 

Nero, Lago, 40 

Nervo, Baron de, 145 

Nettines, Mile, de, 164 

Neuchatel, Principality of, 36 

Neuilly, 10, 190, 208, 211 

Neuvaines, 126 

Ney, Marshal, 238 note 1 

Nicolais family, the, 195 

Nicolet, the, 21 

Nicolin, M., 255 

Niemen, the, 236, 237 

Nieuil, Agatha de, 93 

Nieuil, family of, 70 

Nieuil, Marquise de, 73-74 

Nieuil, Poute, Marquis de, 73 note 1 

Nimes, 62, 66, 266 note 1 

Nivelon, dancer, 230 

Nivernais, property of the Author at, 
119, 204 

Noailles, Alfred de, 141 

Noailles, H6tel de, 83, 101 

Noailles, Marquis de, at Saverne, anec- 
dote, 55-56 

Noailles, Mme. de, 164 note 1, 170 

Noailles, Mme. Just de, 290 

Noailles, Pauline de, an adventure 
with, 147 

Noir, M. Le, 71 

Normandy, horses of, 96 

Norvins. See Montbreton, Norvins 

Notre Dame, Cathedral of, 251, 281, 
351 



Notre Dame des Ermites, Abbey of, 

38 
Nuc6, General de, 155 

Obergestelen, village of, 41, 42 

Oberhasli, valley of, 42 

Obert, General, 314, 329 

Oiron, Chateau de, 93-94 

Oise, the, 180 

Olavides, Comte, 146-47, 147 note 1 

Ollivier de la Seine, 354 

Olmiitz prison, 99 

Ombredane, inn-keeper, 147 

Opera Ball, the, in 1780, 23 

Opera, the, 20, 21, 33, 138, 168, 229, 

288 
Orcy, M. D', 216, 228 ; visit to Switzer- 
land with the Author, 32, 35, 37-45; 

death of, 86 
Orcy, M. d', Eeceiver-General, 32-33 
Orcy, Mme. d', at Rheims, 32 
Oreille, Virginie, 307 note 1 
Orfeuille, Comte d', 267 
Orglandes, Mme. D', 239, 293 
Orleanists, the, 57, 78, 91 ; projects, 

95 ; the bacchanalia of June 20, 

1792, 104-5 
Orleans, the prisoners of, 118 and 

note 1 ; the Joan of Arc fete, 226- 

27 
Orleans, Due d', father of the Due de 

Chartres, 18 
Orleans, Due d', 257. See also Louis 

Philippe 
Orleans family, recall of the, 285 
Orleans, Petit Hotel d', 138 
Ormesson, M. d', 57 and note 1 
Ormoy, Anne J. Felicit§, 126 note 1 
Orvilliers, M. D', 219, 293 
Osages, the, visit to France, 355-56 
Ossuaries of the Burgundians, 36 
Ourcq Canal, 185 
Ourcq, the, 208 

Outremont, Mme. d', in London, 266 
Outremont, President d', 319-20 

Paccaed, Dr., 43 

Palais Royal, the — 

Destruction of, 18-19 ; changes 
made by Philippe -Egalite, 164 note!, 
211 ; removal of the Fran9ais to, 168; 
mentioned, 128, 134 

Pancemont, Abbe de, 180 

Pantenbriiche, the, 39 

Panurge, actor, 49 

Parcieux, at the Lycee, 59, 60 note 1 

Paris — 

Reform in children's dress in 178C, 
14-15 ; places of pleasure in 1780, 



376 



INDEX 



19-23; social customs in 1780, 19- 
23 ; LeMariagede Figaro, 26; change 
in public opinion, 26-27; famous 
newsmongers, 27-28 ; the peace of 
1781, 28 ; society in 1780, 47; effect 
of the Revolution on the society of 
— new modes in dress, 47-50 ; a re- 
volution in manners, 50 ; some of 
the salons of the old magistrature 
and of the haute finance, 51 et seq. ; the 
Federation of the Champ de Mars, 
79-80 ; Hotels of, 83 ; state of, in 
1791, 91 ; return of the Author to, 
in 1792, 100 ; the 10th August, ] 792, 
110-14; massacres, 112-14; uni- 
versal terror, 115; the Author's in- 
ability to leave, 116-17 ; the second 
massacres, 117-18 ; return of the 
Author during the Terror, 123-26 ; 
the 9th of Thermidor, 126-27 ; the 
law banishing nobles twenty leagues 
from, 127-28 ; the Author again be- 
comes a citizen, 128; condition after 
the war — the Loi du Maximum, 
129-30; the craze for speculation, 
130-31 ; disorders in the Faubourg 
Saint Antoine, 131-33 ; the affair of 
thel3thof Vendemaire, 136-37; re- 
viving life in, 142-43 ; the 18th of 
Fructidor (September 4, 1797), 150; 
social condition during the win- 
ter of 1799 — further revolution in 
dress, 167-68 ; the theatres of 
1799, 168-69 ; poverty in society, 
189 ; return of the Author's 
household, February 1801, 197 ; 
coronation of Bonaparte, 210-11 ; 
cost of living in, in 1806, 212; 
the Author's return to in 1807, 
213 ; society customs 1801, 220 ; in 
1808, 227; winter of 1809, 228; 
society under Napoleon, 231 ; con- 
dition in 1812, 238 ; receives news 
of the Allies, 240 ; capitulation of, 
245-46 ; the Provisional Govern- 
ment,246-47, 247 note 1 ; entry of 
Monsieur, 248 ; entry of Louis 
XVIII., 250-52; Sunday closing of 
shops, 253 ; flight of Louis XVIII. 
and entry of Napoleon, 256-57 ; 
entry of the Allies after Waterloo, 
269; return of the Author from 
London to, 273 ; entry of the Due 
and Duchesse de Berry, 281 ; the 
equestrian Statue of Henri IV., 
295; entry of Charles X., 347; 
the National Guard disbanded, 
35 
Parliament, resolution of D'Espre- 



mesnil, 53 ; Grand Chambre of the 

condemnation, 124 and note 2 
Parliamentary Party, the, 67 
Parseval, Adfele de,"51 note 1, 52, 196 
Parseval family, 90 
Parseval-Grandmaison, 272 
Parseval, M., Farmer-General, 90 
Pascal, M., 6, 11 
Pasquier, M., 174-75, 175 note 1, 214, 

220, 231, 239, 253-54, 259 and note 1, 

271 and note 2, 293, 308, 312, 314, 

330 note 1, 359 
Pasquier, M., the elder, 175 
Pasquier, Mile., 214 
Passage des Feuillants, 102, 113 
Pastoret, Marquis de, 103 and note \, 

198 
Pastoret, Mme., 174 and note 1, 215, 

238 
Patriotism, provincial, 69 
Paty, M. Du, 169 
Pauillac, 266 note 1 
Peletier de Mortfontaine. See Mort- 

fontaine 
Peletier de Saint-Fargau, Le, regicide, 

126, 217 
Penthi^vre, Due de, 89 
P5re Lachaise, 348 
Perier, Casimir, 333 
Perignon, Mme., 230 
Perigord, Mile. d'Amblimont de. See 

Lage, Marquise de 
Perouse, La, 161 note 1 
Ferruches, 121 
Peru, 181 
P6tion at the Tuileries, 109 and note 1 

-10 
Petit, deportment, 4 note 1, 229 
Petit Bourbon, the, 231 
Petit, Mme., actress, 168, 289 
"Petites jambes," of Despreaux, 228- 

30 
Petits-P^res, battalion of the National 

Guard, 108 
Peyronnet, M., 317, 358 
Philippe Augustus, 342 
Philippe de Valois, 195 
Philippe-Egalit6, 164 note 1, 168, 208, 

211 
Picard, actor, 168 
Pierre, Mme. de la, 141 
Piet-Tardiveau, deputy, 313-14, 314 

note 1 
Pieyre, L'FcoIe des Peres, 226 and note 1 
Pilatus, Mount, 42 
Pimodan, Baron de, uncle of Oamille, 

323 and note 3 
Pimodan, Comte de, father of Camille, 

302 and note 2, 303, 312 



INDEX 



377 



Pimodan, Comtesse de, 303 and note 1, 
306, 307, 312, 342 

Pimodan, M. Camille de, 302 and note 
2-303 

Pimodan, Mme. Camille de, at coro- 
nation of Charles X., 343-44 

Pimodan, Een6 de, 309 and note 1 

Piscatory, M., 218 

Pissevache, the, 43 

Pitt, 221, 258 

Plunkett, Miss, 11 

Poingdextre, M., 264 

"Pointe," the, 350 and note 1, 352- 
67 

Poirier, M., 190 

Poissonni^re, Faubourg, house of the 
Author in, 157 

Poitiers — 

Description, 68-69 ; social life in, 
69-70; house of M. de Nanteuil, 
70-71 ; the Bishop's Palace, 71-72 ; 
reception of the Author, 72-73 ; 
ladies of, 73-78 ; class in, 80 ; visit 
of the Author to, 1791, 92-99 ; re- 
visited by the Author after fourteen 
years, 209-10 

Poitiers, Diane de, 120-21, 122 

Poitou, 61, 69-70, 93, 96, 208-10 

Poitrine, Mme., 49 note 2 

Poland, Bonaparte's policy, 237 

Polastron, Comtesse de, 217 

Polignac, M. de, 346 

Polignac, Mme. de, 54, 175 note 2 

Pompadour, Mme. de, 87 

Pons, Mile, de, 302 

Pontau Change, 158 

Pont des Arts, 295 

Pont du Gard, 66 

Pont-Neuf, 295 

Pont Saint Esprit, 62 

Ponte del Diavolo, 42 

Pope, the, in Bonaparte's procession, 
210 

Popular Society, the, 106 

Port Royal, 289 

Portalis, J. Marie, Comte, 358 and 
note 1 

Porte Saint Antoine, 132 

Porte Saint Martin, playhouse, 168 

Pouilly, Mgr. Bishop de, 29 

Pradel, familv of, 70 

Pradel, Mile, de, 76 

Pradt, Abbe de, 237 

Preaulx, M. de, 214-15 

Press, the — 

Censorship under Fouche, 161 ; the 
Author appointed Commissioner on 
the Censorship Bill, 314-15; the 
Press on the Rentes question, 335- 



36 ; the Censorship removed, 341 ; 

re-established by the Author, 353- 

64 ; again suppressed, 357 
Princeteau, Mme., 276 and note 2, 304 
Provence, 333 
Prulay, M. de, 134-36, 137 
Prulay, Mme. de, 134 
Prussia, policy towards France, 234, 

284 
Prussia, king of, 117. 222, 320 
Public Salvation, Committee of, 131 
Puy-de-D6me, 97 

QUIBERON, 94, 181 
Quinault, actor, 49 
Quinze, popularity of, 167 

Racan, actor, 38 

Racine, 30, 195-96, 196 note 1, 198 

Radegonde, Saint, 69 

Raineville jsere, 296 

Ralph, coachman, 79, 92 

Rameau, notary, 158, 182, 186, 188-89, 
190, 193 

Rapperswyl, bridge of, 38 

Raucourt, actor, 168 

Ravez, M., 333, 346 

Realph, Hospiz of, 41 

R^camier, Mme., her veJioide, 60 and 
note 2 

Reffibell, regicide, 136 

Regency, the, customs, 122 

Regnier, M., 242 

Reichenau, He de, 36, 41 

Reichenbach, Falls of the, 42 

Remusat, M. de, 179 

Renauds, the, 33-34 

Rennes, tov/n of, 260, 262 

Rentes, conversion of the, 1824, 335- 
36 

Restoration of 1814, 161 

Retz, Cardinal de, 301 

Reuse, the, 41, 42 

Reveliere, Louis, 316 and note 1, 322, 
323, 324, 325 

Revolution, the, of 1790 — 

Maupeou Parliament dissolved, 14 ; 
presaged, 22, 57-58 ; effect on Pari- 
sian social life,27,47-50 ; beginnings 
of the, 66; the taking of the Bastille, 
78 ; the Federation of the Champ 
de Mars, 79-80 ; the seeds sown in 
the Paris salons, 80-81 ; position in 
1791, 91 ; the condition of France, 
92, 119; the flght of Louis, 95; 
emigration of the nobility, 95-96 ; 
the bacchanalia of 20th June, 1792, 
104 ; scoundrels of Brittany and 
Provence, 105, 106; 10th August, 



378 



INDEX 



1792, 110-14 ; the second massa- 
cres in Paris, 117-18 ; state of 
Paris 1793-94, 123-26 ; the 9th of 
Thermidor, 126-27 ; establishment 
of the Directory, 136-37 ; the 18th 
of Fructidor, 151 ; pillaging of 
Champlatreux, 163 ; victims, 167, 
216,301 noie 3; the 18th of Brumaire, 
181 ; results, 197 

Eewbell of the Directory, 151 

Rewbell, Mme., 154 

Rheims, the Authorat, 29, 32 ; corona- 
tion of Charles X., 343-47 

Rhine, the, 36, 41 

Rhinthal, valley of, 37 

Rhone, the, 43, 63, 66 

Richelieu, Cardinal de, 18 

Richelieu, Due de, 271, 2:3, 300 and 
■note 2, 318 

Richelieu, family of, 70 

Rigi, the, 42 

Rigny, Chateau de, 93, 94 

Rillet, Mme., 219 

Riom, pies of, 98 

Ripa, 40 

Rivaudiere, Castel de la, 323 

Riviere, Marquis de, 330 note 1, 349 
and note 2 

Robert of Lizy, 287 

Robert the painter, 157, 178 

Robespierre, his tricoteuses, 126 ; La 
queue de Robespierre, 127 

Rocca, M. de, 290 

Rochambeau, General, 104 

Rochedragon, Marquise de, 292 

Rochefort, 269 

Rochefoucauld, La, family of, 70 

Rochejacquelin, Mme. de la, 232 ; 
Memoirs, 320, 324 

Rocher de Cezembre, 263 

Roederer, M., 112 

Rohan, Cardinal de, 23 ; influence of 
Cagliostro on, 65-56 ; story of the 
necklace, 56 and note 1 

Rohan-Chabot, Due de, 214, 279 and 
oiote 1 

Rohan-Gbabot, Duchesse de (Mme. de 
La Borde), 167, 214 

Rohan-Rochefort, Charles de. Prince, 
23 

Roinville, 178 

Rome. King of. 231-32. 258 

Romeuf, Alexandre de, 90-91 

Romeuf, Louis de, 90, 238 

Romeuf, M. de, 90-91 

Romeuf, Mme. de, 5, 90-91, 97, 134 

Rorschach, the Lord and Abb6 of, 
navy of, 37 

Rosambo, actor, 225 



Rosambo, Leonce de, 329 
Rosambo, Ludovic de, 278. 329 
Rosambo, M. de. 214. 243. 270, 273, 

278, 290-91, 293 
Rosambo, Mme. de, 174, 214, 239, 

243, 273, 290-91 
Rosbach, battle of, 10 
Rostopchine, burning of Moscow, 237 
Rouen, 187 

Rouge, Alexis de, 282, 293, 298 
Rousseau, 19, 29, 86, 58, 81, 122-23, 

123 note 1, 165, 171, 176, 204 
Rovigo, Savary, Due de, 305 atid 

note 1 
Roy, Alphonse Le, doctor, 150 
Roy, Antoine, Comte. 358 and note 1 
Royal Guard, the. disbanded, 105 
Rueil, 105 
Rulhi^re, M., 10, 23 
Rumford, Comtesse de. See Lavoisier, 

Mme. de 
Rumford, house of, 201 
Rumford, M. de, 201-3 
Russia — 

Position in 1811, 234-35 ; feeling 

in, 284 ; the battle of Navarin, 357 ; 

the war begun by Napoleon, 236- 

38 

Sacken, his cavalry, 246 

St. Bruno, house of, 45 

Saint Cloud, 230 ; Charles X. at, 341 

Saint Germain, 171, 172 ; fair of, 63 

St. Gotthard, the, 41 

Saint Heliers, arrival of the Author, 
264 

St. James's Park, 18 

Saint Louis des Fran9ais, church of, 
177 

St. Maurice, baths of, 40, 43 

Saint-Alphonse. See Watier 

Saint Antoine, Faubourg of, rising of 
the, 131-33 

Saint-Aubin, Mme., 169 

Saint- Beuve, quoted, 314 note 1 

Saint-Chamans, General Comte de, 
Mimoires, 277 note 1 

Saint-Cricq. M., 317, 327 

Saint-Cyr, 121 

Saint-Cyr, Marshal Gouvion, 298 

Saint-Cyr military school, Olivier de 
Frenillyat, 311-14, 329, 330; epi- 
demic at, 317-18 

Saint-Denis, Abbey of, 341-42 

Sainte-Aulaire, M., 304-5 

Sainte-Catherine plums, 92 

Sainte-Foy, M. de, 153 and note 1 

Sainte-Genevi^ve, 342, 351 

Sainte-James, M., 140 



INDEX 



379 



Sainte-Manre-en-Touraine, 92 
Sainte-Pelagie, 338 note 1 
Saint-Fargeau, M. De, 217 
Saint Florentin, Hotel de, 214 
Saint-Gallen, 37 
Saint-Geniez, Gontaut, 304 
Saint-Geran, Marquis de, 54-55 
Saint Honore, Faubourg, the Author's 

establishment in, 220-21 
Saint-Huberty, Mme., 7 
Saint-Jean d'Angely, Eegnaud de, 

304 
Saint-Just, M. de, writer, 126 and 

note 1, 128, 169, 170 
Saint- Just, Mme., her circle, 128, 141, 

170, 220 
Saint-Lambert, M. de, 166, 174, 198 
Saint-Leu, 180 
Saint-Malo, the Author at, 260, 262, 

264 
Saint-Maurice, Chateau de, 178 
Saint-Mauris, Comte de, 282 
Saint-Mauris, Hotel de, 282 
Saint Ouen, 5, 8, 9, 250 
Saint-Phal, actor, 168 
Saint-Pierre de Moustier estate, the, 

336 
Saint-Pierre, He de, 36 
Saint-Pierre, town of, 260 
Saint-Preux, M. de, 185 mid note 1, 

187. 194, 320, 325 
Saint-Eoch, parish of, 4, 152, 172 
Saint-Servan, arrest of the Author at, 

260-61 
Saint-Waast, M. de, 4, 33, 51, 53, 72 

78, 79, 83-84, 123, 182, 183, 266 
Saint-Waast, Mme. de, 47, 51, 72, 92, 

126 
Sainval, Mile., 31 
Salieri, music of, 33 
Salis-Marschlins, M. de, 40 
San Domingo Expedition, the, 160 ; 

the question of indemnity, 350 
Sannois, life at, 178-81 
Sargans, 40 

Sarnen, Lake and village of, 42 
Saut du Doubs, the, 36 
Sauvigny, Bertier de, 282 
Savenay, the Author's connection 

with, 312-13, 324, 332, 357 
Saverne, 55 

Schabzieger cheese, the making of, 39 
SchaflEhausen, 36 
Schardam, 30 
Schollenen, valley of, 42 
Schonbrunn, 230 
Schwyz, village of, 42 
Scioto, 152 
Scribe, actor, 169 



Sebastiani, the Oorsican, 143, 333 
Sechelles, Herault de, 33, 124 and note 

1, 144 
Sedaine, Dherteur, 125 
Segur, Comte de, 146 
Segur, Comtesse de, 258 
Seguret, Abbe, 23-24, 172, 191, 288-89, 

303, 319 
Sell, the, 38 
Semonville, Baron de, 82 and note 1, 

182 
Seuechal, Mme. Le, 9, 23, 88, 89, 137, 

161, 171 note 1, 220, 296 
Senlis, M. de, 170 
Sentis, the, 37 

Septennial Act, the, 331, 332, 334 
Serent, Due de, 265-66 
Sesmaisons, Donatien de, 324 
Sesmaisons, Humbert, Comte de, 282, 

284, 293, 294, 301 and note 1, 316 

323-25 
Seven Years' War, 148 
Sevigne, Mme. de, 55, 148, 170, 177 

194,312 
8hze, De, 273 
Sich^re, M., cook, 92-93 
Siey^s, the, 174 
Sillery, Chateau de, 343-44 
Silvy, M. de, 289, 347 
Sinety, M. de, 143 
Sion, capital of the Valais, 43 
Small-pox, 15 
Smolensk, 237 
Societe des Bonnes Etudes, 285-86, 

286 note 1 
Soignet, music master, 101 
Soleure, 36 
Sommariva, Marquis de, 199 a>id note 

1-201 
Sommariva, Villa, 200-201 
Sommi^res, Comtesse de, 76 
Sondrio, 40 
Songs, popular, 133 
Soucy,178 
Soult, Marshal, 346 
Southampton, the Author at, 264 
Soyecour, Mile, de, 304 
Spa. 11 

Spain, 227, 284, 321, 327-30, 336-3 
Spliigen, the 41 

Stael, Baron de, 142 and note 2, lo 
Stael, Baronne de, 11, 44, 60, 142, 153, 

174, 269, 290 
Stamsstad, port of, 42 
States-General, the, 53, 57, 78, 81, 86 
Staubbach, the, 42 
Stoddart, Sir John, 267-68, 26S note 1, 

282-83 
Storms, Alpine, 40-41 



380 



INDEX 



Strasburg, 279 

Suard, M., 25, 198 

Suard, Mme., 174 

Sue at the Lvcee, 59, 60 note 1 

Suleau, M., 108, 113 

Sumter, M., 217 note 1 

Sumter, Mme., 217 and note 1 

Sunday closing of shops in Paris, 253 

Suze, La, 346 

Swiss, the, at the Tuileries, 110-15 



Tadoltni, sculptor, 201 

Talaru, Marquis de, 284, 302 and note 

1, 306, 331 
Talaru, Marquise de, formerly Cler- 

mont-Tonnere, 59, 301-2 
Talleyrand, M. de, 79-80, 87-88, 151, 

152, 153 note 2, 247 note 1, 253, 258, 

266,269-70 
Talleyrand, Mme. de (Suzanne), 87, 

88 note 1, 153, 218 
Tallien, Mme., 127, 154, 217 
Talma, actor, 168, 288, 289, 352 
Talon, Advocate-General Omer, 317 
Talon, Demoiselle. See Cayla, Mme. 

du 
Tarascon, 63-64 
Tarasque, procession of, 64 
Target, M., 56 
Terray, Abbe, 139 
Terray, M. Hippolyte, 139 and note 1, 

152, 169-70, 172, 218, 232, 252, 270 
Terray, Mme., nee Claire de Vinde, 

139, 212 
Terror, the. See Revolution, the 
Test Act, the, 267 
Tete Noire, valley of the, 43 
Thames river, the, 32 
Theatre de Louvois, 168 
Theatre du College, Amsterdam, 31 
Theatre Feydeau, 168 
Theatre, the — 

Stage anachronisms, 7 ; theatres in 

1780, 19-21 ; Parisian theatres in 

1799, 168-69 
" Theophilanthropes," the, 162 
Thesignv, M. De, 23, 288, 347 
Thesigny, Mme. De, 4, 34, 172 
Thiebault, General, 279 and note 3 
Thiebault, Laure, married Norvins, 

279 note 3 
Thiers cited, 135 note 1 
Thiriot, M., 7 
Tholozan, M. de, 62 
Thomas A, Becket, St. , 31 
Thorvaldsen, Triumph of Alexander, 

200 
Thouars, Chateau de, Rigny, 93 



Thuisy, Commander de, 267 

Thuisy, Marquis de, 267 

Thun, Lake of, 42 

Thury,Chateau de, 195, 207 

Thurv, Hericart de, election, 309 and 
note 3-310 

Thury, M. de, 195, 207 

Tilsit, Peace of, 222 

Times, the, article on Mathieu Mole 
and the Author's refutation, 267, 
268, 282 

Tirano, 40 

Tocqueville, M., 252, 258, 270, 279 

Todi, glaciers of the, 39 

Torre, king of illuminators, 21 

Tortoni, cook, 344 

Toulouse, 67 

Touraine, property of the Author at, 
92, 204, 221-22, 255 

Tourneur de la Manche, Le, regicide, 
136 

Tourolle,M., 144, 167,202-3,218,238, 
293, 302-3 

TouruUe, Caroline. See Crisenoy, 
Caroline 

Tours, 92,227, 255, 256, 258, 283 

Trappe de la Meilleraye, the, 324 

Trappist monastery founded in Eng- 
land, 329 

Tremoille, Mme. de La, 70, 93, 211, 
349 

Tremoille, Prince de La, 284, 294 

" Trente mille hommes," Abbe, 27 

Tressan, Comte de, 24, 25 

Tribert, M., 196 

Trieste, 191, 271 7iote 1 

Trocadero, the, 329 

Trois Rois, Hotel des, BSle, 36 

Trudaine, M., stewardship of, 192 

Tryon, Chevalier de, 97, 209 

Tschernitscheff, Russian envoy, 236 

Tschoubert, Count, 247-48 

Tuileries, the — 

the gardens, 101-2 ; defence of the 
Chateau, 108-14 ; Cour de Marsan 
occupied by the Swiss, 110; the 10th 
August, 1792, 110-14 ; the Carrousel 
evacuated by the mob, 11.3-14 ; the 
Convention sits at the, 126; David's 
two pictures, 126, 132 ; again de- 
fended by the National Guard, 131- 
32 ; Court of Napoleon at, 231 ; 
return of Napoleon, 238, 257-58 ; 
Louis XVIII. at, 251, 276 ; the bord 
de I'eau conspiracy, 296; the ehapelle 
ardente, 341-42 

Turgot, M., became Comptroller- 
General, 71 

Turpin, Miles, de, 77-78 



INDEX 



381 



Tuscany, Grand Duchess of, 207 note 1 
Twickenham, 285 

" Ultra," the term, 277, 299 
/ " Undiscoverable Chamber." See 
Chamber 
United States, 269 
Unterseen, 42 
Urseren, valley of, 41 
Urtubise. See Montbreton, Urtubise 
Uzfes, 66 

Vacossin, cook, 9 

Vaines, M. de, 174-75, 175 note 1, 

179 
Valais, the, 41, 42 
Valence, M. de, 48 
Valerien, Mont, 171 
Valli^re, Mme. de La, 276 
Valory, Chevalier de, 52 
Valory, Comtesse Marthe de, 52 
Valory, Marquis de, 52-53 
Valory, Marquise de, 52-53 
Valory, Mile, de, 52 
Valtellina, province of the, 40 
Vandceuvre, actor, 222, 223, 225 
Vanhuysum, recalled to Paris, 128 
Vannes, 163, 180 
Vanpal, teacher of art, 128 
Vatican, the, 201 
Vaublanc, Comte de, 102-3, 103 note 1, 

271-72, 272 ?iofe 1, 280, 293, 319, 

349 and note 1 
Vaucluse, Fountain of, 65 
Vaudeville Theatre, 169 ; Ze Trois 

Tantes by the Author, 145-46 
Vauguyon, Duo de La, 216 
Vaulchier, M., 338, 344 
Vemeranges, M., Farmer-General, 22 
Vendue, the, 121, 258, 316, 320 ; Bona- 
parte's fears regarding, 260-61 ; a 

call to the Author, 312 
Vendome, 147, 256 
Venneville, Marquise de, 74 
Verdi^re, M., 301 note 1 
Vergennes, M. de, her uncle, 179 and 

note 1, 308 
Vergennes, Mme. de {nee de Bastard), 

179 and note 1 
Vergennes, Mile., author of Letters 

and Memoires, 179 note 1 
Vergennes, Mile. Alix de. See Nan- 

souty, Mme. de 
Verigny, Brochet de, 309 and note 2, 

310, 319, 322, 323, 325 
Vernan, M., Farmer-General, 90, 106 

and note 1 
Veruelle, 184, 186 
Verona, Congress of, 321 



Versailles, 81, 87, 118 note 1, 166, 216 ; 
cavalry school established at, 330- 
31 

Very, cook, 344 

Vestris, 7, 229 

Vevey, 43 

Victor ie, Mile., cook, 220 

Vien, portrait by, 163 

Vienna, Congress of, 258, 338 note 1 

Vigan, 66 

Vigee, poet, 171 and 7iote 1 

Vigier de Mirabel, M. de, 113 

Vigier, Mme. de, 75 

VignoUes, Mile, de, 74 

Vigny, Alfred de, 148 and note 1 

Vigny, Chevalier de, library of, 156 

Villatte, General, 355 a?id note 1 

Ville, Hotel de, 137, 149 

Villeblanche, M., 238 

Vill^le, M.— 

Minister of Finance, 303-4, 317, 
318, 327 ; arrangements for the 
Congress of Verona, 321-22 ; his 
bill for the conversion of the Rentes, 
334, 335-36; and Chateaubriand, 
336-38 ; friendship for the Author, 
339 ; removes the censorship of the 
Press, 341 ; grant to the emigres, 350 ; 
on the disbanding of the National 
Guard, 354 ; the creation of new 
peers, 356-59 ; receives a peerage, 
357-58 ; mentioned, 161, 253. 293, 
298-99, 332, 346, 353 

Villemoisson, fHes of, 9 

Villemoyenne, 218 

Villeneuve, Auguste de, 121 

Villeneuve, Ren6 de, 121, 148 

Villers-Cotterets, Chateau of, 195, 
207-8 

Villers-Cotterets, Forest of, 195, 207 

Villers-Cotterets, town of, 6, 196, 243 

Villers-Helon, Chateau of, 195 

Villette, Marquis de, 12 

Vilna, 237, 238 

Vinde, M. de, 137-38, 138 note, 139- 
40, 149-50, 150 note 1, 220, 276, 299 

Vinde, Mme. de, 138, 142, 146, 149- 
50, 198, 211, 218, 220, 232, 243, 248, 
276 

Vintimille, Vicomte de, 164 note 1, 
165, 173, 203 

Vintimille, Vicomtesse de, 164-65, 
173, 189, 198, 214, 227, 266, 293 

Vitre, Marquis de, 79 

VitroUes, Marquis de — 

The " secret note," 285 and note 1 ; 
the Hotel d'Imecourt, 294 ; pro- 
poses the Conservateur enterprise, 
296-97 ; defeat in Provenge, 333 ; 



382 



INDEX 



mentioned, 278 and note 2, 281, 284, 

293, 306 
Vittre, M., 209 

Voght, Baron de, 218, 219 a7id note 2 
Vogiie, Comte de, death of, 214, 223 
Vogiie, Comtesse de. See Damas, 

Zephyrine de 
Voltaire — 

The Author's visit to, 11-13 ; the 

Author's estimation of, 30 ; writings 

of, 121, 122, 177 ; a saying of, 175 ; 

bust at Sannois, 179 ; Pucelle, 227 ; 

mentioned, 11, 58, 81 

Waistcoats for men, the introduc- 
tion of, 48-50 

Walenstadt, Lake of, 39 

Wallon, Mme., 242 

Walsh, Vicomte, 323 and note 1, 324, 
325 



Warsaw, 237 

Waterloo, 257, 259 note 1, 268 

Watier de Saint-Alphonse, General, 

233, 267 
Weissenstein, Lake of, 40 
Wellington, Duke of, 268, 270 
Wesen, town of, 39 
William, Prince, of Prussia, 244 
WisTcys, 49 and note 1, 50 
Witt, M. de, 217 
Wolf-hunts, 196-97 
Woolwich, a review at, 32 
Wrentz, Baron de, 198-94, 204 

TVIQUEL, M.,324 

ZUG, Lake of, 42 
Zumdorf, 41 
Zurich, 37, 39, 42 



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